


High Noon in Sandbridge

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: Nights in Sandbridge [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (the sexy kind not the child abuse kind), Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blackmail, Bureaucracy, Custody Battle, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Minor Wanda Maximoff/Sam Wilson, Oral Sex, Sex, Spanking, child character, child-related cockblocking, offscreen violent death, parental woes, suddenly parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-02-14 13:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 59,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13009197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Life is pretty good for Bucky and Tony these days. The restaurant is doing well, and they’re happy with their little family. Then Bucky’s sister meets an untimely end and Bucky and Tony are suddenly guardians to a niece they’ve only met a handful of times. Their attempts to make a home for the bereaved child are complicated by Tony's mother, Bucky’s ex-lover, and the man who claims to be Billie’s father. But whatever her parentage, Billie is a Barnes through and through -- stubborn and hot-tempered and not remotely interested in making a life in the one place that her mother had sworn never to return. Will she ever learn to call Dockside and Sandbridge home?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from _High Noon in Lincoln_ which is a book about Billy the Kid.

“Eight, nine, ten, eleven... God damn it, where’s twelve?” Tony needed to get the inventory numbers to Bucky and then run down to the rental to do some repairs. Two months until the summer season officially started, but they already had the place booked for two of the four weeks in April, and none of the renters would be happy if there was a hole in the wall in the kitchen or the bathroom light was flickering.

But before he could do that, he had to find this missing package of pre-sliced cheese. Preferably soon; it was fucking _cold_ in the walk-in fridge.

Tony’d had better days.

“Hey, babe,” Bucky said, strolling in and immediately wrapping Tony in his arms.

Tony leaned into the warmth with a sigh. “Almost done,” he promised. “I’m just one cheese short and I swear to god I can’t figure out--”

“Oh, shit,” Bucky said. “Cheese, that was me. I pulled one out last night and took it upstairs.”

Tony shot his husband an unimpressed look. “You what.”

Bucky looked sheepish. “I wanted to make omelettes for breakfast this morning, and we were out.”

Tony sighed. “I’ve been freezing my balls off in here for twenty minutes because you forgot to tell me we were out of cheese?”

“Sorry?” Bucky tried. He nibbled at Tony’s neck. “I’ll warm you back up, hm?”

They’d been together almost three years, married a year and a half, and Bucky’s touch still sent a thrill right down Tony’s spine, every time. Unfortunately, they were both too busy to drop everything for a mid-day romp. He put a hand in the center of Bucky’s chest and pushed until they were out of the damn fridge, then shut the door firmly behind them. “I’ll take you up on that later,” he promised, tipping his head for a kiss.

“No making out in the kitchen!” Steve demanded from his spot by the grill.

“Fuck you, one kiss is not making out,” Bucky shot back, grinning.

“Alas, we don’t have time to test Steve’s delicate sensibilities,” Tony said. “I have to go over to the rental and see how much of that list I can knock off before dinner.”

“You should take Ree with you,” Bucky said, taking the list from Tony’s hand.

Tony blinked. “What?”

Bucky grinned even wider. “Spring break,” he said. “She’s home for the week, wants a job. I told her I’d have to talk to you since you’re the--”

Tony pushed past Bucky and through the kitchen door into the main restaurant floor. Riri Williams was leaning against one of the long picnic tables, arms folded. She looked up with a wide smile when Tony came in and opened her arms for a hug that Tony willingly gave her.

“Hey, boss!” she greeted him cheerfully. “Place is looking good!”

“Yeah, we replaced the floor over the winter,” Tony said. “Bucky says you’re on break?”

She nodded. “Got a week; I was hoping you had some odd jobs I could do, ‘cause otherwise I’m stuck working at the store.” She made a face.

Tony couldn’t blame her; she’d grown up working in her mother’s candy store, but it wasn’t exactly a booming business this time of year. “I’m sure I can come up with something for you to do,” he agreed. “You free now? I’ve got some repairs to do over at the rental.”

“You bet!” she agreed. “Let me just text Mom.” She bounced out the door, already poking at her phone.

Bucky sniffed, coming in behind Tony. “Our little baby, all grown up,” he mock-sighed.

Tony snorted. “I’m only, what, six years older than her?”

Bucky laughed and kissed Tony’s cheek. “Closest thing to a kid we’re ever going to have, though. Might as well enjoy it. Besides, we _are_ paying her tuition.”

“No,” Tony said, pointing at him with narrowed eyes. “That is a _scholarship_ foundation for women in STEM fields, it could’ve gone to any local girl.”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky said, smirking. “Keep saying that, maybe one day someone will believe you.”

***

The phone was ringing as Bucky climbed up the stairs to their home above the restaurant. He tripped on the last step; ever since they’d had to replace the staircase and most of the second level balcony, the stair was just a little steeper than his legs expected on autopilot.

He cussed, scrambled to his feet and got into the house, but the phone disconnected with a sharp click as he picked it up.

“Hmph,” he said. It probably wasn’t anything important. He only maintained a landline at all because of the restaurant -- the combination meant they were on a cheaper phone plan than if they disconnected the house line. No one ever called on the residential line; both he and Tony had cellphones that they used for personal stuff. The only calls Bucky got to the landline tended to be cold sales calls, political robocalls and wrong numbers.

Still, it was late for any of those. He frowned down at the phone. He picked up the handset -- the answering machine had broken years ago and he’d never bothered to replace it -- and checked the callback number: 678-555-7100.

“Tony?” Bucky called out. His husband had been just locking up downstairs and was probably on his way up. “Babe, do you know what Becca’s work number is?” Because Tony always knew; it was freaky the way you could give him a set of numbers and he’d remember it _months_ later.

“Uh...” Tony’s voice was distant, getting louder as he climbed the stairs. “678-555-7102, for the nurse’s station.” He came in and shut the door. “Why?”

“I think she called,” Bucky said. He was still staring down at the handset. It was weird that she would have called the house phone from work; Becca had his cellphone number, and usually called from hers, when she called. Well, maybe she’d broken her phone, in which case she might be calling him to attempt to convince Tony and him to replace it. Again. She was pretty notorious for it; phone calls from Becca ended up with the inevitable question--

“What’s she want us to buy her _this_ time?”

Yeah. That.

“I dunno, she hung up before I got here,” Bucky said. Well, if she had lost her phone, the house number would be the one she’d remember; it hadn’t changed in at least thirty years; maybe longer. He was just pondering whether to call her back or let her stew until morning -- it had already been a long damn day -- when the phone rang in his hands.

He cursed, startled, and then stabbed at the answer button. “Hello?”

“May I speak to Mr. James Barnes, please?” The voice was a woman’s, cultured and silk-smooth, and no one he’d ever heard before. If Becca’d given his name and number to some hospital charity fundraiser, he’d… be pissed off, but realistically, he probably wouldn’t do anything. He was too tired to think of something sufficiently nasty at the moment.

“This is he,” Bucky said, more or less on autopilot.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes,” the woman said, staying formal. “This is Doctor Helen Cho. I… have some distressing news for you, sir, regarding your daughter.”

“Excuse me?” Bucky wiggled a finger in his ear and then put the phone back to it. “I don’t have a daughter--”

“This is Mr. James Barnes, 100 Sandfiddler Road?”

“That’s me, but --”

“And Rebecca Barnes is your daughter?”

“My sister,” Bucky corrected. “Our Dad’s been dead about four years now. I got th’ same name.”

“Mr. Barnes,” Cho continued, “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. I would have waited until the sheriff's department contacted you, but since you live in Virginia...”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. Everyone knew about Georgia and Virginia police; Bucky personally knew of several deadbeat dads who’d relocated to Georgia because of the difficulty in legal conversation between the states. He stepped back a few paces and almost fell in one of the kitchen chairs.

Tony cocked his head, watching Bucky carefully, a small line of worry forming between his brows. He came over to stand in front of Bucky, leaning against the table and picking up Bucky’s free hand.

“Your sister was involved in a violent episode that took place in our emergency room this evening,” Cho said. “A narcotics addict had self-injured, and while under our care, acquired a pair of medical scissors. When Ms. Barnes went to check his blood pressure, he stabbed her in the throat--”

“Oh, god, is she all right?”

“We had the entire trauma team working on her -- she was one of our own -- but I’m afraid we could not stop the bleeding in time. She died from a combination of blood loss and asphyxiation. I’m--”

The phone dropped out of his fingers. “What? What?”

Tony caught the phone just before it hit the floor and lifted it. “Hello? I’m Mr. Barnes’ husband, who--” His lips thinned and his eyes widened. “Oh, god. What-- Yes. No, but-- Okay. I understand. Hang on.” He brushed his knuckles lightly down Bucky’s face. “Honey?”

“No.” Bucky said. He wasn’t sure what he was denying. The whole thing. Everything. All of it. “No.”

Tony took a breath. “Okay, honey, I’ll take care of it.” He turned his attention back to the phone. “He’s... Yeah. How long ago did it happen? Uh-huh. And it’s the middle of the night -- where’s her daughter right now? Has she been-- Yeah, no, I honestly couldn’t say. ...As a matter of fact, Bu-- James is the guardian of record, unless she’s updated her will in the last six months. Yeah. We’ll make arrangements to be there as soon as possible. Where can I get in touch with you in the meantime? Okay. And the babysitter, do you-- Okay. Yeah. Okay. Thank you. I’m... I’m sorry.” He hung up the phone and set it gently on the table. “Bucky, honey.”

“I don’t…” Bucky stared at the phone as if it was an alien artifact that had just appeared on the end table. “I don’t understand.” How could she just be gone? It didn’t make sense, he’d just… they’d just only recently started to try to form any sort of relationship at all, after being essentially estranged for most of their lives. Becca had been a teenager before her brother was even born, already resentful and hostile with parents and location. The addition of a sibling that she was supposed to look after and take care of had just cemented what had already been a rocky start.

In other circumstances, maybe Becca would have been more mother to him than sibling, but not in the Barnes household. Becca had pretty much loathed him from the get-go and wasn’t shy about telling him so, either. But they were trying -- _had been_ trying. Past tense now, because --

Bucky chewed on his lip until he could taste blood, eyes flickering from spot to spot as he tried to hold onto some sort of control. He didn’t cry anymore. Well, only once, since Winifred had died and -- yeah, he didn’t like to think about that much. He and his father had some issues left unresolved their whole lives.

Becca had cried though; he remembered. Sobbed hysterically and had to be dragged away from their mother’s coffin after the viewing. At the time, Bucky remembered having the uncharitable thought that Becca was crying from rage, from not being able to make Winifred understand, for not making Winifred sorry enough.

She'd been icy cold by the funeral itself, though.

Bucky blinked. Lost it, just a little. One tear slid down his cheek and he couldn’t decide whether or not to angrily brush it away or just ignore it and pretend it hadn’t happened.

“... honey.”

Oh. Right. Bucky wasn’t alone in the room the way he was with his crazy shattering thoughts. Without quite meeting Tony’s eyes, Bucky reached for him. Thank God for Tony, because Bucky really did not want to be alone in this world without any family. Later, he would think about Steve and Nat and Clint and Bobbi and Sam and Wanda and Sharon and Sharon’s son, Michael, who made up the Dockside family. But right now, there were only a few Barnes left in the world. Bucky. And Tony… and--

“Oh, fuck. Where’s Billie? Is she okay?”

“With the babysitter right now,” Tony said. “Becca was on the night shift, so... Dr. Cho said they decided not to wake her up to tell her. The next few days are going to be rough enough, and it’s not like they were going to be able to bring her in to say goodbye, not...” He took a hard breath, stopping his rambling. “She’s at the babysitter’s, sleeping. Dr. Cho is calling the babysitter now. I’ll let both of them know as soon as we have an itinerary.”

“Right,” Bucky said. “Yeah, okay, that… we should call Steve, he’ll…” Well, it wasn’t like Steve had ever considered Becca a sister. Bucky’s parents had fostered Steve after his mom died, but Becca had been close to gone by that point, and she had resented the appearance of Steve (and his impressive array of childhood illnesses and medical bills) even more than she did Bucky. But they would need Steve to take over Dockside while they were gone. Again. For another funeral. There weren’t a lot of Starks left, either.

_Jesus_.

“And plane tickets, we can get bereavement… well, it’s not like we’ll need that, honestly. Just first class.” That was at least something; Tony (and by way of marriage, Bucky) were actually multi-millionaires, even if neither of them took anything like advantage of it, partly because they didn’t want too many people to _know_. First class tickets, though, no one in Sandbridge would even ask. Of course Bucky would have to fly down for his sister’s funeral, and if anyone even noticed they were in first class, well, last-minute flights, you took what was available.

Bucky was _okay_ , he was _fine_ , he was making plans.

He took a deep breath, as if to express any of this to Tony and shocked himself by bursting into tears.

“Oh, baby,” Tony said, and Tony’s arms were around Bucky, pulling him close, holding him tight, rocking, just a little. “Honey, I’m so, so sorry.”

It was strangely reminiscent of the last time Bucky had wept. Tony holding him up and apologizing in his ear. When he’d thought he lost Tony. He grabbed a handful of Tony’s shirt, pulled him tighter. Thank god for Tony. “It’s _unfair_ ,” he managed. That was always Becca’s refrain, too, and that thought got him going even harder, sobbing until he couldn’t _breathe_. Couldn’t see. Somewhere in there, Tony managed to get them over to the sofa to sit.

Bucky finally, _finally_ managed to choke it off.

When Bucky looked up, Tony was not dry-eyed, either. “It sucks,” he said, his voice rough. “It sucks so much.” He brushed Bucky’s hair back carefully. “And it’s going to keep sucking for a while.” He closed his eyes, took a couple of breaths, opened them again. “I’ll handle all the arrangements,” he offered, “unless you want something in particular. Okay?” He hesitated, head cocked as he considered. “You want to call Steve, or do you want me to?”

“I’ll do it,” Bucky said. He considered the handset that Tony had put down for only a second, then pulled out his cellphone. For one thing, Steve probably wouldn’t answer if it popped up from the houseline, he doubted Steve had the number in his contacts list. And… Bucky wasn’t sure he remembered Steve’s number anyway.

Also… Bucky eyed the phone warily as if it might bite him. He was suddenly having really, really bad associations with that phone. He didn’t really want to touch it again. Not… not right now.

He tapped the icon for Steve -- a snapshot of Steve’s Star-Spangled-Surfboard -- and waited.

“Buck --” Steve’s voice was muzzy with sleep. “Hey, what… is everything okay?”

Bucky took a deep breath. “No. No it is not.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Even this early in the morning, Atlanta airport was a circus. Knowing they weren’t going to get to sleep anyway, Tony had booked the earliest flights he could find. They hadn’t bothered with more than a carry-on, either; if there was ever a good time to take advantage of their wealth to skip unnecessary planning, this was definitely it.

Tony hefted his bag over his shoulder and steered Bucky gently through the crowds. Becca’s death had hit Bucky hard -- well, not surprising, Tony supposed, given the shock and the nature of their relationship. Tony fired off a text as they walked, and by the time they’d reached the taxi stand outside the baggage claim, he had a response. “We’re all going to meet at the hospital,” he told Bucky. “I know you said you weren’t hungry, but this is probably the last chance to eat for a while.”

Bucky nodded, eyes foggy and not quite seeing what was in front of him. “Yeah, I ain’t, but. Something, I guess. Don’t need t’ fall down.” He raised his chin a little to look at Tony. “You pick. Somethin’ I don’t need to think about, okay?”

“Okay, baby.” He nudged Bucky into the cab ahead of him and leaned forward to tell the driver where they were going. “Stop at the nearest Starbucks on the way.” He leaned back into his seat as the car moved and closed his eyes for a moment.

“This is crazy,” Bucky said. “Bex an’ I don’t speak to each other pretty much th’ whole of our lives, and now… _now_? Why now? Why not three years ago?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said. Not that Bucky actually wanted an answer, even if there was one. Georgia, he thought and looked out the window. He wondered how much trouble they’d get into if they were seen holding hands. Atlanta was more LGBT-friendly than the rest of the state, though. He looked back at Bucky and decided, fuck it -- if some asshole wanted to start shit, they could try, but Bucky needed him. He slipped his hand into Bucky’s and squeezed. “I’m just... grateful it _is_ now, and not three years ago,” he added. “God, how much worse would that have been? You didn’t even know about Billie.”

Bucky shuddered. “Yeah, that’s…I ain’t sure I’m ready for this, but we’re all she’s got left. Poor kid.” Bucky gave a bitter, small sort of laugh. “Jesus, can… can you even imagine, if she hadn’t come t’ us last year? Oh, hello, Mr. Barnes, your sister was murdered by some jumped up druggie asshole in our goddamn emergency room and despite having a whole room full of doctors, we couldn’t do anything about it… oh, and by the way, did you know you had a seven-year-old niece? No? Well, come get her.”

“Yeah, that would...” Tony shuddered and rubbed his thumb across Bucky’s hand, soothing. “At least she’s met us a couple of times; we won’t be _complete_ strangers.”

The cab pulled into a Starbucks drive-through. Tony fished out his wallet and handed the driver a twenty. “Two coffees, biggest they’ve got, one black and one with a little milk and sugar, and a couple of croissants or whatever relatively plain pastries they’ve got. Get yourself a coffee too.”

He took the cups and bag from the driver and sat back again, handing Bucky’s coffee over, and a croissant wrapped in a napkin. “Here, honey.” It tasted like cardboard, and it couldn’t be much better for Bucky, but Bucky ate mechanically, not even looking at it.

Grady Hospital was enormous; originally a medium-sized brick building built in the late 1800s, it was now the largest hospital in Atlanta, and indeed, most of that part of the country, a huge sprawl of white, high-rise buildings. It took them a little while to find their way back to the proper nursing station -- Becca had worked in the Emergency Room, but the actual office where her workstation had been was tucked around the corner and down the hall. Nurses and doctors and patients filled the corridors and the air was perfumed with sharp antiseptic.

Finally, they found where they were supposed to be.

Helen Cho was a tiny Asian woman, her black hair pulled out of her face into a casual messy-bun. “I’m Dr. Cho. Your sister was one of my main support nurses. You have my condolences for your loss. This is my son, Dr. Amadeus Cho. Billie is just down the hall; I’m afraid we had to give her a sedative, as she got rather violent at the news, poor girl. My daughter, Maddy, is with her. I paid Rebecca’s babysitter and sent her home. But she left a number for you to reach her, to get caretaking instructions.”

Tony took the offered note, memorized the number and passed it to Bucky. “Thank you, Doctor. We’ll be happy to reimburse any expenses, of course. Let’s...” He glanced at Bucky. “You want to go--”

“What happened to him--” Bucky burst out. “The man who murdered my sister?”

_Oh god_. Tony winced. “It’s a valid question,” he sighed, and lifted his eyebrows at the doctors.

“The man is an addict and was suffering from hallucinations brought on by detox,” Amadeus Cho said. “We treated his injuries and he has been remanded to psychiatric care and evaluation. After an evaluation on his mental state is complete, he will be charged. He will get the help he needs, so that he’s able to face the consequences of his actions. I’m sure the sheriff's department can answer other questions you might have.” The man made a slight shrug. “It’s still murder, even if he did think your sister was a demon-spawn at the time.”

Bucky uttered a terrible, croaking sound that was nothing like a laugh. “Yeah,” he said.

Helen rolled her eyes and nudged her son. “Stop that,” she hissed at him under her breath. “If you like, I’ll take you to Billie now.”

Tony glanced at Bucky. “You want to see her alone first, or...?”

Bucky’s hand tightened on Tony’s. “We’re doing this together, right?”

“Absolutely,” Tony agreed. He nodded to Dr. Cho. “Let’s go see her.”

***

It was dim but not dark when Billie opened her eyes. She knew this room; it was where the nurses and sometimes the doctors took naps when they had long shifts. Mom brought her here when Ms. Hillard couldn’t take Billie sometimes.

For a moment, everything seemed normal and quiet, and then the awful memory exploded: Lady-Doctor Cho telling her-- “No,” she said, and her voice broke. “No, no no--”

“Oh, honey,” said a voice. Billie turned to look, and it was Nurse Cho, sitting up now from the cot where she’d been resting. She came over to sit beside Billie. “Honey, I’m sorry, it’s--”

“I want Mommy,” Billie sobbed. Nurse Cho pulled Billie into a hug. Billie wanted to push her away, like before.

She’d yelled and pushed Nurse Cho and for a second, everything had seemed very strange. But Mom hadn’t said, “Billie, you stop that right now!” and somehow that had been even _worse_ , and she had... She had... She couldn’t quite remember what had happened after that. She was crying harder, now, and Mom wasn’t going to come and hug her and take her home for ice cream or.... She folded into Nurse Cho’s arms and cried.

The door opened, slowly. Billie looked, hoping it would be Mom, telling her it had been a terrible mistake and for a just a second, it _was_.

And then it wasn’t.

Billie had an uncle -- two of them, now. When she’d told her friends at school about them, Derek had overheard and been really _mean_ about it, and told her that having two gay uncles meant she was really a boy in a dress, which made her so mad she’d gotten in trouble with her teacher for biting Derek. Again.

She had two uncles, but she didn’t know them very well. She’d just met them for the first time, Christmas not last Christmas, but the one before that. She hadn’t realized how much her uncle looked like Mom, though, and it made her throat get all tight and hurt to swallow.

“Hey, kiddo,” her uncle -- she wanted to call him Jimmy, which is what Mom called him most of the time, but she remembered that he didn’t like that name. She couldn’t remember what she was supposed to call him, though. She clung to Nurse Cho and stared at him, unable to respond.

Behind him was Uncle Tony -- Mom just called him Tony, mostly, unless she and Uncle Jimmy got in a fight, in which case Mom called him a bunch of words that Billie wasn’t allowed to say. He wasn’t really looking at her, though. He looked at his phone and at Billie and at Nurse Cho and at Uncle Jimmy and then back at his phone.

Uncle Jimmy just looked at her, though, like he was waiting for her. She sniffled and dragged her arm across her nose. “Hi.”

“I don’t even--” Uncle Jimmy started, holding out one hand like he expected her to take it, or hug him, or something. Mom had sort of told her she ought to, but that if she didn’t want to, she didn’t have to. Mom was big on something she called bodily autonomy. Billie only really knew how to say that because she got a lecture every time Billie hit someone at school. Or hugged them. Or pretty much anything. Other people weren’t for touching, mostly, except for how sometimes they were. Billie still hadn’t figured out the rules yet. “I’m sorry about your mom, kiddo.”

Billie’s throat closed up again. “I wanna go home,” she said. Home was where everything was okay.

Uncle Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, we’re uh… we’re gonna go there for a bit. Get stuff settled for your Ma. Stay there, for a while. Ms. Hillard’s gonna come by. An’ we’ll get your stuff all packed up.”  

Packed up? She pushed off of Nurse Cho and frowned at Uncle Jimmy. “Packed up for what?”

“Honey,” Nurse Cho said, and Uncle Tony made a face and said, “Maybe now isn’t--”

“Packed up for what?” Billie demanded again, louder.

Uncle Jimmy made that face that adults did when they didn’t want to answer a question. “Shit,” he said, under his breath and then the face got worse. Mom would --No, Mom wouldn’t be mad. Mom was never going to be mad again. Billie knew was dead meant. Her mom was a nurse. Billie knew an awful lot about dead. “Sorry. I’m… well, really, she’s gotta be told sometime,” he said. “You’re gonna come live with us, in Sandbridge now. After… we get things settled.”

Billie shook her head. “Mom says we’re not ever going to Sandbridge,” she told him. Billie had asked, after her uncles had come to visit the first time, if they were ever going to go visit them, and Mom had been very firm on that. Sandbridge was a _terrible place_ and they weren’t _ever_ going.

“Well, not today, at least,” Uncle Jimmy said. “Right now, we’re gonna go to your home. Is that okay?”

There was something wrong there, she just knew it, but home was what she’d asked for, wasn’t it? She nodded carefully. “Okay.”

“Thank you for looking after her,” Uncle Jimmy said to Nurse Cho.

Nurse Cho pushed her hair out of her face. She was growing it out, she’d told Billie a few weeks back, and it was “in that awkward in-between stage”. “Is the service going to be here? A lot of Becca’s friends will… and co-workers. They’ll want to say goodbye, and Virginia is pretty far away.”

Uncle Tony nodded. “Yes, that’s the plan. Becca cut most of her ties with the people she knew in Virginia, so having it here will be more convenient for the most people. Were you close, at all? We’ll need help figuring out... all the details.” He looked at Billie when he said that.

“We had opposite shifts a lot,” Nurse Cho said. “It makes patients weird when I’m calling the doctor ‘mom.’ Mom’s got your number, and I’ll have Jessica Jones give you a call. That’s Becca’s best friend, she’ll know what to do.”

“Becca Barnes and Jessica Jones,” Uncle Jimmy said. “How… alliterative.”

Uncle Tony just nodded. “Your mother has my cell number, feel free to pass it along to Ms. Jones, then.” He smiled at Billie, just a tiny bit, not the big smiles he’d made at Christmas. “You ready to go?”

Billie nodded, and let Nurse Cho nudge her off the cot. She crossed the room on trembling legs to look up at her Uncle Jimmy, who was looking back. He looked very sad, and maybe a little scared. Maybe he’d feel better when they got home, too.

“You want me to carry you? Or you want to walk?” Uncle Jimmy dropped down to one knee to get on level with her.

For just a second, Billie wanted to ask him to carry her. It would be a little like a hug. But she shook her head. “I’m not a baby,” she told him. “I’m too big to be carried.”

“I know you’re not a baby,” Uncle Jimmy said. “But even big girls get tired sometimes. Let me know if you change your mind.” He stood up and offered a hand. “And even grown up uncles need a hand to hold once in a while.”

Well. If it would help him, she supposed. He did look very sad. She slipped her hand into his; it was big and warm and had lots of little hard-rough spots on it. It wasn’t much like Mom’s hand at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “oh, and by the way, did you know you had a seven-year-old niece? No? Well, come get her.” This is a nod to the story the way we originally envisioned it, before we wrote Zen and the Art of Family Maintenance and realized that if Tony had his lawyers do even the most cursory investigation on Becca, then they’d find out about the kid.


	3. Chapter 3

Dr. Cho had given Bucky his sister’s keys. They rode strange in his pocket, heavy and weird. Becca had apparently been fond of keychains, because dozens of them glittered pointlessly from the ring, which held only a few keys. House, car, mailbox. Another key, probably to a storage unit or a shed.

“Something will need to be done about her car,” Bucky said. They’d just bought that car for her birthday last year. Tony had bitched, a little, at that. But Bucky reasoned that a few hefty gifts from time to time might sweeten Becca’s temper. It had been used, a previous lease model, with less than thirty thousand miles on it. Bucky didn’t want it. And he wasn’t sure he was prepared to bring it back to Virginia and see anyone else driving it around, either.

Billie was sitting between them in the cab, scowling at her hands that she had bunched into little fists on her thighs. God only knew what she was thinking. Bucky didn’t know the first goddamn thing about kids. Sharon’s boy, Michael, was the only one, really, that he’d known since he graduated high school; sometimes when Sharon’s mom was ill, Michael ended up running around in the restaurant or playing with Lucky.  

Oh, _god_. He coughed and then asked, “How are your guinea pigs doing?” More pets. Well, they could live in whatever room Billie wanted and they’d train Lucky to stay out. Hopefully.

“Fine,” she said, and then after a minute volunteered, “Squeaker bit Mouse on the butt last week and Mouse got mad and chased him all over the cage.”

Bucky managed to dredge up a smile for that. “Well, that sounds like it was funny. Poor Mouse, though. I remember Squeaker had some big teeth.” God, he didn’t know anything about rodents, either, except that he didn’t like when they got into the kitchen. Steve was rather terrified of them, and everyone joked about it, that Steve was like an elephant and didn’t want to squash them, but Steve was always the first one to suggest putting out live traps as soon as they found evidence of scat near the bread bags. “We’ve got a dog, you know. Sometimes. He’s Tony’s dog, really, but we share him with Clint and his wife, Bobbi.”

“Mom says we can’t have a dog,” Billie reported. “She says they take too much work.”

And for a full time, sixty-hour-a-week plus nurse, a dog probably _was_ way too much work. Becca… Becca shouldn’t have had to be there, all the time. Guilt pummeled at Bucky with thick, heavy blows. If Becca had agreed to come home, help him with Dockside, they’d have made it worth her while, but she didn’t want to. And they’d deliberately sort of stuck it to her, helped her out, but made sure she had to keep working, even though they could have -- Bucky cut that thought off. Not helping. Not helpful.

“Some dogs are a lot of work,” Tony pitched in. “Lucky’s pretty easy, though. We just have to take him for a walk a couple of times a day and make sure he gets food and water. And he’s great for hugs.”

“And brush him out sometimes,” Bucky said, “and give him a bath, but he’s pretty good about baths. And there are a lot of us, at Dockside, who take care of him. Me, an’ your Uncle Tony, and Clint and Bobbi, and Steve and Nat. And Sam, too, sometimes.”

Billie bit her lip and went back to looking at her fists. Tony looked over her head at Bucky with a sympathetic grimace.

Bucky pulled out his phone and tapped.

_I suck aat this_ and he pushed send.

A moment later, Tony almost jumped out of his seat when his phone buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at it, and typed an answer one-handed.

New text from Tony  
 _Me 2. Well figuer it out. just gonna suck 4 a bit._

“What grade are you in now?” Bucky asked. It was April. At least school would be over soon, and… he’d already had words with the local grade school, calling from the hospital to let them know Billie was going to be absent. The secretary there had filled him in: Three days was all the time off students were given for bereavement, and then Billie could have another five days off as unexcused absences, but unless they wanted to let her fail for the year, she had to be in school, either in Atlanta or in Virginia Beach, by next Monday. Or they’d have to go up for a hearing at the school board, which, Bucky knew from listening to other people bitch about it, was not likely to get them any grace.

“Second,” Billie said, as if it was the most obvious thing possible and why was he even _asking_?

“Doin’ better than me,” Bucky confessed. “I got held back a grade, so I was still in first grade when I was your age.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Did you? I didn’t know that.” Tony, of course, was probably in fucking high school or something when he was seven, the asshole.

Billie’s eyes were round. “Howcome? Mom says y’only get held back if you’re _bad_.”

_Ug_. Becca would say that, wouldn’t she? Not that it wasn’t the fucking truth. “Kinda was,” he admitted. “Used to fight all the time. Got in a lot of trouble. They held me back a year on the theory that I wasn’t mature enough for school yet. Thought being a year older would sort me out.” Hadn’t. And then there was Steve, who was getting into fights all the damn time. It was lucky either of them got through high school at all. If it wasn’t for No Child Left Behind, they probably wouldn’t have.

“Oh.” Billie considered that. “I fight sometimes. Sorta.”

“What for?” Tony asked.

She fidgeted a little. “Because Derek is a giant poophead.”

“Yeah?” Bucky snorted. Oh, god, Becca would have _loved_ that; another kid who was a scrapper. Not, he reminded himself firmly, that he should in any way encourage that sort of behavior. He was supposed to parent now. Sort of. If Billie would let him. “What did he do?”

“He pushed me on the playground even if the teacher said she didn’t see it,” Billie said, angry. “And he stole my good pencil. And he cuts in line at lunch! And he called me a _boy_!”

“Well, Derek being the obvious exception,” Bucky said, “there’s nothing really wrong with being a boy.”

“But I’m _not one!_ ” Billie said, obviously seething. “He said I was a boy in a dress! And he checked out the book I wanted on library day just ‘cause he knew I wanted it. He doesn’t even _like_ Treehouse Mysteries!”

“He certainly sounds like he’s going out of his way to be a poophead,” Tony said solemnly. “I can see why it’s hard to keep your temper.”

“My teacher says it’s because he likes me,” Billie grouched, curling in on herself even more.

Bucky scoffed. “Oh, that’s _such_ garbage. You’re nice to people you like. You don’t hurt them, or call them names, or make them miserable, that’s not...” He glanced at Tony. Bucky had very strong feelings about abuse and what sort of horrible people engaged in it. Tony had been on the run from an abusive boyfriend when they’d met. “That’s not how you demonstrate affection, and you shouldn’t ever… _ever_ have to accept that.”

Tony caught Bucky’s eye and smiled warmly. He knew what Bucky was thinking about, obviously. “Well, sometimes teasing looks like that. Like our friends Nat and Steve,” he said. “They tease each other a lot. But if it’s just teasing, then if you tell them you _really_ don’t like it, then they’d stop. That’s how you tell. So I have to agree with Bucky, here, I don’t think Derek is teasing you because he likes you. I think he’s just being mean.”

“That’s what I told Ms. Meachum,” Billie pouted. “She said to just ignore him, like that ever works. So I bit him.”

“Ow,” Bucky said, mildly. “You should probably not do that. It’s bad for your teeth. And there are a lot of germs in the human mouth, like, really. _Loads._ You break skin and he could have gotten an infection.” Yeah, he was gonna be a _great_ parent; he could just see getting dragged into the principal’s office to explain to someone why he was encouraging his niece to kick people in the back of the knee, instead.

“Good!” Billie said vindictively, crossing her arms. “He deserves it.”

“But then you might have to go to the dentist, to get your tooth put back in, too,” Bucky pointed out.

“Hmp,” she huffed, obviously not convinced. Thank goodness Derek wasn’t going to be a problem for much longer. But if hanging around Steve had taught Bucky anything, it was that there was always another Derek.

***

There was a skinny woman wearing a black leather jacket and smoking a cigarette with her boots up on Becca’s kitchen table. Tony was already fumbling out his phone to call 911 when Billie ran straight into the kitchen and threw her arms around the woman with a plaintive, “Aunt Jessie!”

Billie burst into tears and let the woman pick her up and snuggle her inside the jacket.

“You’re the brother, then,” the woman said, gesturing with her cigarette. “Detective Jones. You can call me Jessica.”

“You’d be the best friend that the nurse at the hospital mentioned, then,” Tony said, pushing his phone back into his pocket. “How much do you--” He glanced at Billie, still sobbing, and sighed. “My condolences.”

Jessica Jones had long black hair and pale skin that made her look more closely related to Billie than Bucky was. Tony wondered idly if Jessica had a brother or cousin or something that was Billie’s father. Or, hell, maybe Jones was trans and had sired the girl herself. Though if that were the case, Tony didn’t know where Billie would have gotten those brilliant green eyes; Jones’ were brown.

“Thanks,” Jones said. “I've had a key here for just about ever. Barnes is responsible for some of the neater stitches I've had, this last decade or so. And she's cheaper than the doc in a box. I'm gonna miss her.” She ruffled Billie’s hair. “I brought some apples for the spuds, do you want to give them a snack while I talk shop with your uncles, huh?”

Billie took the apple-slices that Jones offered her, but she pouted and sniffed. “You’re gonna talk about me, aren’t you?” she accused.

Tony tried not to grin.

“And your mom, some,” Jones said. “You don't want to hear about that, baby girl. Not till you're much older.”

“Fine,” Billie sniffed, and shuffled out of the room.

They waited a few seconds, and then Jones said, “I ain’t kidding, Billie, go on!”

Billie’s huff of exasperation from behind the door was easily audible, as were her stomping feet.

“The Chief, she thinks I’m doing work on a robbery case downtown,” Jones said. She pulled out a file and tossed it on the table. “S’why my car’s not out front. Now, I guess I need to know… you want justice for your sister, or you just want to take the squirt and go home?”

“Revenge isn’t justice,” Bucky said. He snagged one of the kitchen chairs and sat down.

“Sometimes that’s all we get,” Jones shot back. “Now, this is the thing. This guy, he’s small. Worthless, really, except that he killed a nurse who was trying to help him. He doesn’t know much, but his lawyer will convince him to give up a few names, do two, three years, max. He’ll leave town after eighteen months and we’ll never see him again. In the meanwhile, we might -- _might_ \-- be able to take down one drug dealer. One. Who probably, again, will cop a plea, give us some names. War on drugs is endless. Pointless. People die and no one fucking cares.”

Tony couldn’t quite pull a complete breath, his gaze flicking between Jones and Bucky. “The alternative?” he asked, hoarse.

“I don’t want a war on drugs, I want this guy to pay for costing me the only friend I’ve never been able to sarcasm away,” Jones said. “He’ll have some sob story, they always do. How he got on drugs, how he’s sad and scared, and I do not give a fuck. Cool backstory, bro. It’s still murder. Everybody hurts. Everybody’s in pain. He doesn’t get to take his shit out on other people.”

She sat back in her chair for a minute, breathing hard. “Fuck. I told myself I would stay calm.”

Bucky just looked at her. “What is it you think we can do about it?”

“You have money,” she said. “ _Use_ it. Don’t let them offer him a goddamn plea deal. It’s a sure conviction. Our prosecuting attorney is running for state congress. A conviction would look good. Show voters that we value our nurses, our support staff. Give him a fucking donation for his campaign and make a suggestion. The system never works in the favor of the little guy. Your sister, she might not mean much to a lot of people, but she fucking meant something to me.”

It was very doable. Easy. State congressmen _always_ needed donations, much more than their national counterparts. And the guy was, if Jones could be believed, small potatoes, not worth holding back for his connection to higher-ups who hurt more people in worse ways. Tony leaned over Bucky’s shoulder and picked up the file, flipping through it and only half-seeing it.

“Isn’t he in a mental hospital, right now?”

“Yeah,” Jones said. “Doesn’t matter. Almost no jury ever goes for ‘innocent because he’s a fucking junkie’ as a plea.”

Tony nodded slowly. “Even if your prosecutor calls for voluntary manslaughter and lets them whittle him down to involuntary plus drug charges... he’s still going away for a long time.” He looked at Bucky. “We can make that happen,” he said. “Wouldn’t even have to stick around. If that’s what you want.”

“She was trying to _help_ him,” Bucky said, voice breaking. “And he killed her. For no reason. Yes. Yes, I want that. Put him away, lock him up and fucking forget about him.” Bucky covered his face with one hand and roughly wiped his cheeks.

Tony nodded and pulled Bucky against him, his hand rubbing small circles against Bucky’s back. He looked at Jones. “Get me the prosecuting attorney’s name, and the name of his campaign manager, if you have it. Important to do these things through the right channels.”

Jones reached into her jacket and pulled out a business card, flipping it onto the table. “And… Becca told me you all have a rental house up near where you live. Email me about the possibility of renting the house and I’ll send you what you need. Hope I don’t scare you too much, because I ain’t lettin’ you drag that kid six hours away where she’s got no one without coming up to visit, sometimes.”

Tony picked up the card and tucked it into his pocket. “I’m sure she’ll be grateful. It’s not our house; we’re just the managers. But we’ll make some space for you in the schedule. I’ll let you know.”

Jones got to her feet. “For what it’s worth, Becca was grateful. She probably didn’t say it. Hell, she doesn’t-- didn’t. Didn’t even say shit like that to me. But I know her. I gotta run. That robbery’s not gonna solve itself.”

Tony offered his hand. “Thanks. When you’re done with that, or ready for a break... Come back. We’ll need some help settling things, and it would be good if it was someone who knew her... better.”

Jones made a clicking sound with her tongue and double-finger gunned Tony. She ran one hand over Bucky’s shoulder and ended with a pat on the back. “She was one of the best people I ever met. I mean that.”

And she was out the door.

Bucky rolled his tongue around in his mouth for a second. “Is… was that the right decision, Tony?”

“I think so,” Tony said. “It’s not revenge, it’s... keeping someone else from having to suffer this.” He sighed. “We can sleep on it, if you want.”

“I don’t think I’ll change my mind,” Bucky said, slowly. “Just…” He turned to look up at Tony. “Want to make sure you’re… not going to see me differently. That I ain’t losing your respect.”

“Oh, honey.” Tony kissed Bucky’s forehead. “No, not for wanting justice done. This is... Plea bargaining is a tradition in the system, but it’s still a _bargain_. If we don’t want to take the deal, it’s not a deal.” He shrugged. “We normally wouldn’t get a say in that, but... If he doesn’t know anything that’s worth your sister’s life, then he shouldn’t be able to buy it.”

Bucky sniffled and wiped his cheeks again. “Using our powers for good, right, baby?”

“Absolutely.” He pulled Bucky close again, running his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “Love you. No matter what.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

When the screaming started, it was Bucky who had to deal with it, because Tony was on the phone.

That wasn’t unusual. Tony had been on his phone for half of Thursday and almost all of Friday. The service on Saturday had been simple but surprisingly well attended. Bucky hadn’t realized that his sister had quite so robust a social life… Well, why would he know? They’d barely spoken to each other in years. Sunday had passed in a quiet sort of daze, and now it was Monday morning. And there was screaming.

Ug. He rolled to his feet. It wasn’t “I’m in pain” screaming, which might have gotten Bucky to move faster. It wasn’t “I’m having a nightmare” screaming, either. This was 100% Barnes brand “I am pissed off” screaming. Seemed Billie had gotten that from her mom, at least. “I got this,” he told Tony.

Point of fact: he didn’t have this. At all.

“... no no no NO NO NO NO!” Billie was standing in the middle of her room, surrounded by piles and piles of her things that she’d torn out of the neat stacks of boxes and dumped everywhere. “I’m not going, you can’t make me!”

Bucky stared around the room. She had literally emptied more than a dozen boxes, strewn stuff everywhere. Drawn all over the walls of her bedroom with multiple colors of sharpie. Swear words, too, he noticed. Accurately spelled, that was nice. Good. Artistic. He particularly admired a lurid pink _son of a bitch_ near her closet door. She’d drawn a little heart over the _i_.

He leaned in the door, as casual as he could. Crossed his arms over his chest so she couldn’t see that his hands were shaking and so that he wouldn’t be tempted to grab her. _She’s seven_ , he reminded himself firmly. _And she just lost her mother._

“Yep, you’re a Barnes.” He said that part out loud, because damn, he remembered how he had been after losing his Ma, and Billie… Billie had nothing, _nothing_ , on him. “So…”

She whirled to face him face screwed up in fury, and if there was an instant’s guilt and apprehension in her eyes as they met his, it was gone again before it could even register. “I’m _not going!_ ” she screamed, and stamped her foot.

“Mind if I come in and sit down?” He hoped she didn’t, because really, he was tired. Sleep had… really not been a thing. He had noticed it when they’d gone to New York, a few years back, but he was so damned used to the ocean that being without it… hurt, somewhere that he couldn’t quite soothe. The cruise, for their honeymoon, had been _inspired_ on Tony’s part.

Billie glared at him and crossed her arms over her chest, panting from the force of her tantrum, face blotchy and tear-streaked. “You can’t make me go!”

“We’re not at that point in the discussion, yet,” Bucky said, reasonably. “All I want to do is not tower over you while we talk about it. May I come in and sit down?”

Her jaw jutted out stubbornly. “What if I say no?” she challenged.

“Then, by all means, carry on. Throw your stuff around and scream an’ yell,” Bucky said. “I can wait. Might go wait in th’ other room for you to be done, but I ain’t in a hurry or nothin’. Just thought you might want to try talkin’ it through. You look tired. Little thirsty. And I bet your face is hot and itchy.”

She stared at him belligerently, then rubbed at her face. “...Fine,” she finally relented, “but I ain’t changin’ my mind!”

“Thank you. Now, I assume you know how to wash your face,” he said. “You want to do that and I’ll bring us some soda, and we can have us a sit down? That sound okay to you?”

Belligerence had given way to suspicion, but at least that wasn’t quite so actively hostile. “An’ some pie?” she suggested, almost hopeful. The house was full of more food than the three of them could eat in a month.

“Berry, or peach, I think is what’s cut already,” Bucky said. “Or a little sliver of each? That’s what I always do when I can’t make up my mind.”

“Peach,” she said. After a moment, she added a barely audible, “Please.”

Problem delayed for a bit, Bucky went and gathered up his bribe, half a cup of Coke poured over ice, pie, and a little extra whipped cream. Tony… was still on the phone. He detoured around the living room with his tray of goodies and dropped off a slice of pie for Tony as well, kissed his cheek. “I… _probably_ got this,” he confessed in an undertone.

Tony pulled the phone from his ear long enough to tug Bucky in for a quick kiss. “You got this,” he said softly. “I... am going to be a while, yet.” He gave Bucky a bracing smile, then put the phone back to his ear. “Matt-- Matt, liste-- _Listen_ to me, Matt, okay...”

Billie had, at least, made a marginal effort to wash her face, and it seemed like the effort of doing a small amount of self-care had helped her calm down a little bit. “Okay, then,” he said, picking his way through the scattered mess of her toys and clothes. He risked a quick glance at the guinea pig cages to make sure that the two potatoes on legs were still in there and there wasn’t a water bottle broken or anything like that. They seemed okay, although Mouse was making that horrible little grunt-squeal noise that meant he was upset about something. “Looks like this spot on the floor has the least amount of stuff in the way, let’s sit here.” He twisted himself down on the floor and winced as he managed to sit on one of her dolls; not _Barbie_ , he’d been told quite firmly, but a _Monster High_ doll. “Ow. Sorry…” He pulled the doll out from under his ass and looked at her. “Dracula’s daughter?”

“Draculaura,” Billie corrected, with the sort of resigned patience of children for their hopeless elders.

“Okay, I apologize for sitting on you, Miss Draculaura,” he said. He bent the doll into a sitting position and placed her on an upside down plastic bucket. She promptly fell over; the doll was terribly top-heavy. Billie didn't seem to mind.

“Pie?” Bucky offered his niece the plate and a fork.

“Thanks,” she managed, taking the plate from him. She shoveled a huge bite into her mouth.

Bucky tucked into his own slice of pie and for a few moments, it was just the two of them eating, forks clinking against plates, and the pigs making little noises from time to time. When Billie was most of the way done with her piece, he said, “So, based on this display, I understand you don’t want to come back to Sandbridge with us. Want to tell me why?”

There was that chin again, accompanied, this time, by a little wobble. “‘Cause it’s... it’s _bad_.” She risked a glance at him, looked back down at her place. “Dirty and tiny and boring and only bad things ever happen there!” she burst, in an eerie imitation of Becca.

_God, Becca,_ Bucky thought. “I understand why you might think that. Your mom didn’t care for it, too much. But you know, sweetheart, what’s true for your mom might not be true for you, right? I like Sandbridge an awful lot.”

Billie shook her head. “Mom says you have to work all the time and you never get to have fun or make any friends and there aren’t any people to make friends with anyway. An’, an’ the ocean is loud and it never stops an’ the storms are scary but everyone laughs at you if you’re scared.”

And that one he was going to put squarely in the lap of Big Jim, because that was all him. Bucky’s dad was never one to evacuate, even when it was a state ordered mandatory. “Okay. Let’s start with a few of these, okay? Now, nobody on my crew is ever going to make fun of you if you’re scared of a storm, okay? For the big ones, we evacuate, because that’s safe. We get off the water for bad storms. Always. I’d rather Dockside came down than put any of my people at risk. We sit around at a friend’s house and eat soup and light candles, and usually at some point, someone starts a pillow fight because that’s just what happens.” He laughed, a little. “And my friend Sam? He’s scared of even the little storms. They really bother him, and not a single one of us would ever, ever laugh at him about it.”

She looked at him sidelong, not quite trusting. She didn’t argue, though, and after a minute she looked back down with a barely-perceptible shrug.

“And yeah, it’s small, that’s true. Not a lot of people live there year ‘round. The ocean does make a lot of noise, the surf is pretty constant. I miss it when we’re not there, but I’m used to it. Tony came from a big city, like Atlanta. He’s from New York City. And he got used to the surf noise, after a while. Maybe you will, too?”

“But what if I _don’t_?” she wailed. “What if I hate it and everyone hates me and Mom won’t even come and see me from Heaven ‘cause she hates it so much?”

_Oh, God. Don’t got this, don’t got it at_ all _._

“I will personally kick my sister’s ghost’s ass if she does that to you, sweetheart,” Bucky said.

“Not s’posed t’ say that word,” she sniffled.

“There’s probably going to be some rules changes, Billie,” Bucky pointed out. “I did notice that you already _know_ all these words.” He gestured at the recent redecoration.

She looked around guiltily, and ducked her head, shoulders hunching.

“I’m not mad,” Bucky said. “And you’re not in trouble. You’ve had a bad time of it, and it wouldn’t be fair to expect you to be on your best behavior. It’s a lot to take in, I know it. I missed my ma like crazy when she died, and I acted out a bit, too.” _A lot._ But she didn’t need those details right now. Or ever, really. “Okay, friends… there’s at least one boy your age that I know, he’s the son of one of my waitresses. His name’s Michael. I don’t know if you’ll like him, or if he’ll like you, but he seems pretty cool to me. But you know, I’m a grown up, so what do I know, right?”

Billie looked dubious. “He’s a _boy_.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not cool,” Bucky said. “Anyway, there’s other kids I don’t know as well, maybe you’ll like some of them. My friend Sam's got some nieces, I think one of them's about your age. Won’t know until you try, right?” He went back over her concerns in his head. “Work, that was the other one, right? Now, back when your mom was growing up, our parents didn’t have a lot of help around Dockside, and your mom was an only child for a while, so yeah, she worked hard. Probably not as hard as she worked down here. Being an ER nurse is a busy, hard job, and from everything I understand, your mom was really good at her job. Is that right?”

Billie nodded frantically, hair flying.

“Okay, well, I have a lot of employees, these days,” he said. “Me and Tony, we share the management, and Tony does a lot of the handiwork, carpentry and wiring, stuff like that. And Steve, he’s my cook. And Nat, Sharon, and Wanda all waitress. And Clint and Bobbi pitch in when they’re home. And Sam, when he needs extra money. And I bought an automated dishwasher last year. So that’s eight people and one machine, doing the same work that three people used to do. I think that makes it a little easier, don’t you agree?”

She nodded again, slower.

“So if you get asked to help out from time to time, wrapping flatware, or unloading the dishes, that’s not so bad, right? You get paid, you know, for working.”

There was a definite spark of interest in her eyes at that. “Really?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky said. “Minimum wage. That’s about eight dollars per hour. And you get a raise, annually.” He’d learned that trick, well enough. When he was a kid, his mom paid him less than, but expected the waitresses to give up a share of their tips. They hadn’t been particularly forthcoming about that, and Bucky had made that policy change pretty much as soon as he started taking over the payroll.

Of course, eight dollars was a lot of money when you were eight years old. Billie’s eyes were round like saucers. Then they narrowed. “Do I _gotta_?”

“Work?” She nodded. “No,” he said. “You don’t have to. There are certain things that will be expected of you, but I don’t think they’re much different than you have to do now. Keep your room clean, take care of your pets, do your homework. Take a bath more than once a week. Set the table for dinner. Take out trash. Household stuff. That’s fair, right?”

The mention of household chores made her wrinkle her nose like she smelled something bad, but she sighed heavily around an, “I guess.”

“So, hopefully, you’re a little more willing to consider the idea, but I gotta ask,” he said, “what’s your plan B?”

“My what?”

“Your backup plan,” Bucky said. “You don’t want to come to Sandbridge, so what’s your plan? You have a job down here no one told me about? Got a way to pay the mortgage on the house? You can’t drive yet, so I assume you’re walking to work.”

Billie giggled, just a little bit. “I don’t work, I go to school,” she told him.

“Still need a roof over your head,” Bucky pointed out. “And it happens that my roof is in Virginia. That’s an awful long commute.”

She made a face, clearly not having actually considered it but trying to make something up on the spot. “I could stay with Aunt Jessie.”

“Your Aunt Jessie is a police officer,” he pointed out. “She works even more than your mom did.” Not to mention the woman was a functional alcoholic, as they’d figured out pretty fast. In the court’s eyes, as a non-blood relative, she’d be considered grossly unfit. “Happens that your mom _wanted_ you to come live with me and Uncle Tony. We signed a piece of paper to that effect last year. She thought we’d be able to provide for you better.”  

“Nuh-uh,” she said, but that looked more like shock than real denial. “Really?”

“She really did,” Bucky said. “I can show it to you, if you want to see. It assigns me and Tony to be your legal guardians, in case something happened. The only person with more claim to you than us is your father, and we don’t know who he is, sweetheart.”

“I don’t need a daddy,” she said airily, obviously another thing Becca had said. “I wanna see it.”

Bucky nodded. “It’s downstairs in one of those five million stacks of paper your Uncle Tony is messing around with, but we can find it. Your mom’s signature’s right there on it, and a notary public put her seal on it, which means it was witnessed by someone from the State of Georgia, who verified that your mom had the right to sign that document.”

Billie bounced to her feet. “Where?”

Bucky put his drink aside and got up with slightly less bounce. God, he was getting _old_. “Let’s go look.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Here,” Uncle Bucky said. He handed Billie a pack of Black Jack gum, which was her favorite, and his, too. It wasn’t available most of the time in Sandbridge, and if she thought about that too much it would make her sad, but he’d been so happy to find it that he’d bought an entire case of it. Most of it was packed in the bag he’d brought with him on the plane, but some of it was in his pocket, too.

Billie closed her hand around the blue pack. “Thank you,” she managed.

“You’ll want it, when we take off,” he explained. “The cabin pressure will make your ears feel weird. Gum helps.”

Billie looked out the window again; it wasn’t really a _window_ , window. She couldn’t open it or anything. And it was tiny. The plane hadn’t moved any, since rolling onto the runway _forever_ ago. The airport was boring. Lots of ugly buildings and pavement.

Mouse made a chutting little sound, the noise he made when he was happy. Of course he was happy; Uncle Tony had bought him and Squeaker their own seat on the plane. They were in a travel cage, but Mouse was brave and he was busy sticking his nose in all the corners of the new travel box.

She felt very grown up, sitting by herself. No one had to know her uncles were right behind her. Or that she was with them at all. She mostly ignored them, or watched them between the seats. Uncle Tony was tapping on his phone again. As far as Billie could see, Uncle Tony didn’t do anything _except_ mess with his phone. Mom would have called that rude.

The intercom crackled and the flight attendant told everyone to put away their electronic devices to prepare for takeoff. Uncle Tony scowled and tapped faster for a moment, then sighed and put his phone down. He peered over the top of the seat at Billie. “Excited? You know, the first time Bucky flew was only a couple of years ago.”

Billie wasn’t sure about the plane. Excited? A little, but also scared. Some. She did like that most of the other people getting on the plane had smiled at her. Some of them had even stopped right there to ask her about her pets. One woman with a pretty white dress with flowers all over it had talked to her for several minutes. Both of the men in suits with laptop bags had scowled when they saw her. One of them had wrinkled up his nose, like he thought she smelled bad or something.

Uncle Tony had stared at that guy until he went on to his own seat, though. “Most people like flying,” he told her. “The view out the window is pretty cool, once we’re off the ground.”

Billie nodded and looked back out the window. It was easier than talking. Almost everything was easier than talking. If she could just sit and stare, she didn’t have to think about everything. Mommy was gone, she was gone, and Billie missed her so much.

Much worse than two years ago, when Mommy had gone up to Sandbridge for Uncle Bucky’s wedding. Then, Billie had stayed with Aunt Jessie and gone to school and everything had been normal. Mostly. She’d still missed Mommy, but Mommy had called her every night before bed, except once.

Then the plane was moving. Billie couldn’t help looking out the window as the pavement and trees outside slid by. It was a little like being on the school bus at first, that big rumbling movement. Unlike the bus that bumbled along slowly, stopping another five times between Billie’s stop and the school, the plane just kept going faster. And faster. It felt weird, pushing her back against the seat and then everything-- tipped back, and they were going _up_.

Billie leaned closer to the window. The runway was getting farther away, and now she could see the trees on the edge of the airport and they were _tiny_ , like trees for a dollhouse. And they were _still_ going up!

Behind her, Uncle Bucky took a deep breath and said in a very low undertone to Uncle Tony, “ _Hate_ this part.”

“I know,” Uncle Tony said. “I’d recite safety statistics for you but the last time I tried that you hit me with that dumb little flight pillow.”

It _was_ uncomfortable, Billie thought. Her ears hurt, and then _kept hurting_. Looking out the window was really cool, though. She tried to ignore her ears, watching. The highway below them spooled out like a ribbon and tiny cars were only glints of color and light.

“Pop your ears, honey,” Uncle Bucky said.

Billie twisted around, the belt digging into her stomach. “What?”

“Like this,” Uncle Bucky said, and demonstrated, holding his nose and puffing his cheeks out. Billie actually laughed, because he looked _silly_.

“And then chew your gum,” Uncle Tony added. His gum was a different flavor from hers and Uncle Bucky’s -- he’d been teasing Uncle Bucky about it since they bought it, because he didn’t like the flavor. “It helps. You sure you don’t want something that doesn’t taste like spicy death?” He grinned and winked.

That helped. And the gum was _good_ , no matter what Uncle Tony said. The plane went through a thick white bank of clouds and then it was very bright inside the plane. Blue sky surrounded them, and below, fluffy clouds like sheep. “Wow,” Billie said, pressing her face against the glass. Between the clouds, she caught glimpses of green and brown ground, very far below.

The plane’s intercom came on again and the Captain told them they’d reached cruising altitude and were now allowed to unlock their seatbelts and move around if they wanted.

“Can Mouse come out?”

“No, I think Mouse had better stay in the travel carrier. There are rules about pets on planes. But you can put a couple of treats through the slot for them,” Uncle Bucky said.

“And when the flight attendant gets to us,” Uncle Tony added, “you can pick a snack for yourself.” He already had his phone out _again_.

Billie considered this, and then nodded. She looked out the window again, but when there were just clouds to see, it was kinda boring. She tried petting Mouse through the travel case, but he kept nipping her finger. She couldn’t quite reach to pat his sides, which was what he liked. She gave up and just fed them carrot sticks until they didn’t want any more.

And more waiting. Sitting. She squirmed around in her chair and looked over the back of her seat at her uncle. “How long until we get there?”

Uncle Bucky had his phone out now, too; it looked like he was playing a game. He looked up at her with a smile. “About an hour.”

Billie settled back into her seat with a huff. More clouds. Squeaker had gone to sleep. The airplane lady was coming down the aisle, stopping to talk to each person in the cabin. Offering little tiny bottles out of a bucket.

“I need to go to the bathroom!”

Uncle Bucky kicked Uncle Tony in the calf. “Show her where it is,” he said.

Uncle Tony gave Uncle Bucky a funny look. “There is literally--” He stopped, and sighed. “Okay, okay.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up. “Come on, munchkin.” He pointed. “That way.”

Billie sighed. Did Uncle Bucky think she was a baby and couldn’t go by herself? Except that the plane was big and maybe a _little_ scary, and that man was there again, glaring at her. She slowed down her steps and let Uncle Tony take her hand when he caught up.

The bathroom was very strange, all silvery metal. She pushed the lock tab and looked around. It smelled weird, too. Like the laundry room at the hospital where Mommy worked. Used to work. She peed and then washed her hands. The soap was very foamy, the kind of soap she always wanted to just push the dispenser and watch it come out. Mom had always, always fussed about that. But Mommy wasn’t there anymore, was she?

Billie pushed the soap dispenser button again. And again. Filled the sink up with rich, scented bubbles.

_Knock-knock_. “You okay in there?” Uncle Tony’s voice sounded weird, echoing through the little door.

“Almost done,” Billie said, trying to keep that fibber-tone out of her voice. Mommy always knew, always. But it was true. She was… _almost_ done. She pushed the button again.

She turned the water on and watched the bubbles swirl down the drain. Dried her hands off. Unlocked the door and went out.

Uncle Tony was still waiting for her. He looked at her, then over her head into the bathroom, then back at her. He looked just a little bit amused. “Well, I suppose that ate up five minutes or so. Come on, back to your seat.”

Back to her seat. More clouds. The airplane lady asked her what she wanted to drink and gave her a _whole can_ of soda. Mommy didn’t usually let her have that much sugar and caffeine, but Uncle Bucky didn’t say a word about it. The lady gave her _two_ packs of cookies, too, chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin.

The tray in front of her was covered with cookie crumbs by the time she was done, and Billie spent a few minutes licking her finger and gathering the crumbs up. Mommy wouldn’t have let her do that, either. She would have gotten a wipe out of her purse and told her how many germs there were on the tray, _oh my God, Billie, seriously, child_?

Uncle Bucky got a “beam on the rocks” whatever that meant and drank a brown, sharp-smelling drink out of a plastic cup in two gulps. Uncle Tony kept patting Uncle Bucky’s arm or leg, absently, while still playing with his phone in the other hand.

Before Billie could complain that she was bored again, Uncle Bucky slid her a thin paper bag between the seats. She opened it. “ _Treehouse Mysteries,_ right? The lady at the bookstore said it was the newest one.”

Billie bounced in her seat and then opened the book. She scanned through the list of other books in the same series, trying to remember which ones she’d read and which ones she hadn’t. There were a lot of the books. She had ten of them, maybe. She thought. She got them from the book fair once a year. She spent the rest of the flight reading Jack and Annie’s adventures.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the intercom crackled again, “this is your captain speaking. Weather in Norfolk today is overcast with some incoming thunderstorms. We may experience some turbulence as we descend.”

“Christ on a _cracker_ ,” Uncle Bucky muttered behind her.

“Still safer than driving to Portsmouth on a Saturday night,” Uncle Tony said. He sounded teasing, but between the seats Billie could see he was holding Uncle Bucky’s hand.

“Well, that much is true,” Uncle Bucky admitted. “Ask Clint about the time he got lost down there at three in the morning.” His hands were white-knuckled.

Billie thought about saying she wasn’t scared, but then the plane dropped, as if it had stopped flying and was falling. She dug her hands into the seat’s arms and held on.

“ _Boats_ ,” Uncle Bucky said. “I like boats. Boats are nice. Next time, we’re driving. I do not even care.”

“Okay,” Uncle Tony said. “Whatever you want, babe. Hey, munchkin, you doing okay, there?” He poked the back of her arm through the seats.

“I’m okay.” True. She wasn’t hurt. So, she wasn’t lying. The window had a little shade on it and Billie yanked it down so she didn’t have to watch as the sky turned dark gray and rain splattered the glass.

It took a lot less long to get onto the ground than it had to get in the air.

Billie wasn’t sure she was too happy about that. Neither was Uncle Bucky, who was muttering something that might have been a prayer, but probably wasn’t. The guinea pigs were squealing frantically and she couldn’t do anything about it. “It’s okay,” she told them. “It’ll be okay. It’s fine.” That’s what Mommy said, when Billie was scared of things, and maybe it would help. “Every little thing is going to be okay.”

Uncle Tony and Uncle Bucky were muttering at each other, too low for Billie to make out any words, and Uncle Bucky had his eyes closed tight. Adults were _weird_. Finally they were down on the ground. The plane drove around for a while, bumpy and turning in huge circles before pulling up to a giant tube on the side of the building.

“Thank god for direct flights,” Uncle Bucky muttered. He was a little flushed and sweaty and never once had let go of Uncle Tony’s hand through the entire landing. All the other passengers unlocked their belts and stood up, so Billie did, too.

Uncle Tony gathered up their stuff, including grabbing the pigs. Mouse was not happy with being swung around by a handle and complained noisily. Uncle Bucky offered Billie his hand and Billie took it. They passed through the tunnel and into the airport.

A big sign over the hall read _Welcome to Virginia_.

Billie stopped dead in the middle of the hall, planted her feet and started to cry. “I want to go home!”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky was used to being stared at for a lot of different reasons.

By older people who were disgusted by his long hair. By middle-aged soccer moms who thought he was too broad, swore too much. By women who thought he was straight, and by men who knew that he wasn’t. By people at home who knew he’d been arrested and spent time in jail. By people who saw him with Tony and didn’t think they should be “rubbing it in” that they were gay.

But Bucky had never been stared at before by people who thought he was a _bad parent_.

That was… an entirely different ball game.

He managed to get Billie out of the main path and to one of the padded benches that overlooked the runways. “Hey, hey, hey,” he started. God, he was so bad at this. At least people who’d raised a fucking kid before had a couple of years when the kid was nonverbal to sort of figure this whole comforting thing out. “It’s okay.” It wasn’t. It really _was not_ okay, it wasn’t even a little bit okay, but Billie’s wails were getting really loud and eventually someone was going to come arrest him for being an affront to human beings everywhere.

Tony stepped between them and the rest of the room, and the look on his face and the set of his shoulders reminded Bucky of his “the customer is always right but we still can’t help you” pose. He flagged down a passing airport employee and started talking to them quietly.

Billie curled into a tiny ball -- how the hell did she do that? -- and kept crying. “I want Mo-o-ooommy!” she bawled.

“... some custody thing,” someone sneered from nearby. “Bet he’s one of those…” it trailed off as they got further away

Bucky inhaled; in the nose, out the mouth. “Hey, honey, I know you do,” he said, trying to find Billie’s face under that pile of hair. She’d definitely gotten the thickness from the Barnes’ side of things, even if the rich blackness was unique. When she peeked up at him, those green eyes were huge and wide and wet and rimmed with red. “I know you miss your mom. I do, too.” And that wasn’t even a lie, because listening to her daughter scream for her, Bucky would have given a lot to have Becca back.

“I wanna go _home_ ,” she sobbed. “I changed my mind, I don’t wanna try!”

“Well, that was fast,” Bucky observed, still pulling her hair back away from her face. He dug out an elastic from his pocket and pulled it into a messy ponytail. “We haven’t even got out of the airport yet. Maybe we could try, just for a few hours and see what you think?”

“NO!” she yelled.

“Okay,” Bucky said. “We can just sit here for a bit, if you want. That’s okay. I know, everything’s new and not like home.”

Another group walked by, one of them giving Billie and Bucky the stink eye. How dare a small child infringe upon my right to walk around in the airport, that look said. _Yeah, you just keep on walking, little man_ , Bucky glared right back.

Tony came back with a couple of bottles of water in his hand. He handed one to Bucky and offered the other to Billie, wordless.

“I know you’re sad, honey,” Bucky said. “I know. You want a little drink of water?”

She shook her head, angry and sullen. Tony glanced at Bucky, then shrugged and cracked the bottle open, taking a long drink from it himself.

Billie stared at him with something like betrayal. “You don’t even _care_!” she shouted.

“Now, why would you say that, Billie?” Bucky asked. He mentally gave himself a thousand dollars for holding on to his temper. He was tired, he hated flying, it was fucking pouring outside, which meant driving home was going to fucking suck because you would think that Virginians would get used to driving in the rain because it rained all the goddamn time, but nooooo, that didn’t happen. “Tony cares a lot, he’s just got a better poker face than I do. And certainly better than yours.”

She turned her glare on Bucky. “What does that even _mean_?”

“It means he’s better at hiding how he feels,” Bucky said. “He’s not sharing it with everyone around us; most of who _do not care_. Except to notice that you’re very loud and I’m obviously taking terrible care of you because I’m letting you be loud.” He cracked his own water bottle; it’s not even like he didn’t talk a lot before this, but damn, talking to a child was exhausting. He offered the first sip to her with a raised eyebrow, just in case she’d changed her mind, although she probably hadn’t.

She didn’t move, just tried her damndest to glare even harder.

“Here’s the thing,” Tony said abruptly. “None of us have a lot of choices right now. It’s too late to get a plane back to Atlanta today, and all your stuff is being unloaded downstairs in the baggage claim anyway, so even if you _could_ turn around and get back on the plane and go home, you wouldn’t have any of your things. Which you can’t, it’s kind of against the law for us to leave you alone without an adult, and we are, however much you might hate the idea, the adults who have to take care of you.” He leaned in, almost confidential. “No choices, buttercup. Might as well come home with us and have some ice cream, if Nat’s left us any.”

Logic. Logic was good. Not generally effective on kids in the sub twelve age range, Bucky thought, but Tony might get enough words shoved in there to distract and confuse. And bribes were often good, although he didn’t want to rely on that too often, or they’d end up having to pay the kid to do anything. Ever. For the rest of high school. Which she wouldn’t be getting to, if she didn’t settle in, at least a bit. He took a few gulps of water and wished someone would get on the whole inventing teleportation thing.

“You’re _mean_ ,” Billie accused Tony sullenly.

“Absolutely,” Tony agreed cheerfully. “I suggest sucking up to Bucky. He’ll protect you. Come on, let’s go get our bags.”

Bucky sighed and narrowed his eyes at his husband. _Thanks so fucking much for that, really._ “As much as it pains me to admit it,” Bucky said to Billie with an air of someone bestowing a secret, “he’s probably right. But don’t tell him I said so, he’ll get a big head and then he won’t fit in my pickup.”

Billie still looked mad, but she huffed and unfolded and stomped to her feet. “ _Fine_ ,” she growled.

“I know you’re a big girl,” Bucky allowed, “and you don’t _need_ to be carried. Would you like to be carried, or do you want to walk?”

She eyed him dubiously, then looked down the long hallway toward the baggage claim. “Piggyback?”

Well, this was either going to work, or it was going to be a disaster, but -- He hauled her up and dumped her across his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Is this how that works?” he asked, as if genuinely confused. “I don’t have a lot of experience carrying big girls. You’ll have to work with me, here.”

“No!!!” she shrieked, but it sounded like she was trying (not very successfully) to stifle a giggle. “Uncle Bucky!”

“Oh, this is wrong? Okay… “ He stuffed the water bottle into his bag and shifted her around until she was draped over the back of his neck like a very wiggly scarf. “Better? I think… this is better.”

“NOooooooo!!!” She wriggled. “Not like that!”

Tony took the bag from him, looking highly amused.

“I dunno, Tony,” Bucky said, putting on a puzzled air. “She wants to be carried piggyback, but I thought we carried the pig on a pole, and I don’t have one with me. Do you know what she means?”

“Nope, no idea,” Tony said. He wasn’t covering his laughter any better than Billie was. “I guess I could google it.”

“On your _back!_ ” Billie said. “With me _up_!”

“Hmmmm,” Bucky said. “That’s gonna make it hard for me to walk, if I have to be all hunched over so you can sit like a pasha on an elephant, kiddo. What about up on my shoulders, would that work for you?”

She went still. “You won’t let me hit my head?”

Bucky glanced up. The ceiling was at least another five feet taller than he was. “You won’t hit your head,” he promised. “And I won’t drop you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he said. He lifted her around. “Hook your legs on either side of my neck -- not that tight, I have to breathe -- and, here, give me one hand, and I’ll hold onto your ankle. Lean forward, and, there you go.”

Tony rearranged all the carryon bags, and tried to find a way to carry the guinea pigs so they weren’t swinging or getting banged around too much. (With limited success; they were making what Bucky assumed were _highly indignant_ noises, the whole walk to baggage claim.) Thank goodness Norfolk was a relatively small airport.

It didn’t take long before Billie loosened her death grip on his hand and was looking around at the world with an entirely new perspective. Good to know, the kid liked a view. Well, carrying loads around was a big part of Bucky’s job anyway, and she was a hell of a lot lighter than a keg of beer. “I got a hand back,” he said in an undertone to his husband, “if you need me to take something.”

“Uh.” Tony took stock. “Nah, it’s just sort of awkward, and it’s not going to get much better for one bag. You take care of the munchkin, I’ve got the bags. And a taxi on the way.”

_What_? Oh, yeah, that was probably a good idea. They couldn’t fit the kid and all their bags and the pigs into the back seat of the truck, and putting the bags in the bed was just going to result in soaked luggage. Bad plan. Bucky shook his head a little bit. Tony was always about twelve steps ahead of him with planning and logistics. Bucky sometimes worried that he was holding Tony back, but in the meanwhile, it wasn’t like walking behind him wasn’t a great view. “I love you,” he said, sincere, like a promise.

Tony smiled at him, tired, but earnest. “Love you too.”

On the plus side, Billlie’s meltdown meant they didn’t have to wait at baggage claim; their suitcases were the only ones left going around on the carousel. Tony loaded the bags onto the cart and then into the cab. Taking a cab all the way out to Dockside was going to be stupidly expensive, but Bucky supposed that was what the money was for. He still wasn’t used to it, not even a little bit. His brain, he guessed, was already hardwired to count cost to inconvenience.

And he’d have to come out to the airport tomorrow and get his truck back. But Billie was all but falling asleep, perched on his shoulders, and it would be nice to just… not worry for a little bit. He slung her down, slow and easy, and they piled into the back seat where she promptly curled up against his side and yawned.

“Let’s go home,” Bucky said, softly.

Tony reached over Billie’s head to brush his fingers through Bucky’s hair, his hand coming to rest warm and comforting on the back of Bucky’s neck. “Home at last,” he said.

***

Dockside was still seating for dinner by the time they got home, so Tony volunteered to take Billie up to the house while Bucky looked in on the restaurant. She looked around with sleepy curiosity as he led her up the exterior stairs to the second floor of the building and into their home. “That room and that room,” he said, pointing, “are both bedrooms, and you can have whichever one you want. They’re set up like guest rooms right now, but once you’re settled, we can redecorate however you like? I’m going to bring the rest of the luggage up while you take a look, okay?”

At least Tony had been able to talk Bucky into moving into the master suite, once it had been redone so it didn’t remind him so much of his parents. It meant that the rooms that had once belonged to Becca and Bucky were open for Billie’s choice.

He jogged back down the stairs to bring the bags up before they got too wet -- most of them were full of Billie’s things, anyway. Ug, he hated traveling. It didn’t make him nervous, like it did Bucky, but it did make him feel stiff and lethargic. He pushed back into the house and set the bags on the living room floor, looking for the kid.

The house was eerily silent. Clint and Bobbi were in town, which meant they had the dog, but Tony could have sworn he left a kid in the house not ten minutes ago. But she was utterly, utterly silent. He checked Bucky’s old room which was done up with a brown and tan comforter on the old full-sized bed and it was empty.

Becca’s old room, teal and yellow, was also devoid of a childthing.  

“Billie?” Tony leaned into the master bedroom. Maybe she’d gone exploring? No child in the master bedroom. Or bathroom. Or even the closet, because Tony thought about that. It was a nice closet, he’d done a full closet shelving and organization himself and he was particularly proud of it. (Nat had even liked it enough that she’d provided suitable materials for Tony to do over her closet as well.) But no kid.

That left only one more room, which Bucky had been particularly stubborn about upgrading; Ma Barnes’s project room. Mostly they just used it for storage; after packing Winifred’s old reenactment gear more tightly, there’d been a few square feet that Tony stored his old crap in, and, like an attic, they mostly just ignored that the space existed, except when they needed a place to store more shit they never looked at.

Of course she was in there. Sitting on the floor, with Bucky’s photo album open on her lap. “There you are,” Tony said, relief rushing through him. “What’d you find?”

She’d also managed to unearth Tony’s old Millennium Falcon model and had it leaning up against her side like a pet. How was she that damn fast? It made zero sense. “This is my mom,” she said, holding the book open and pointing to Becca’s homecoming picture. The dress was terrible, pink and fluffy. Her date had a pink cummerbund that almost matched the dress and a mouthful of braces. They were standing, arm in arm, under a balloon arch.

He wondered, suddenly, if Bucky’s prom photo was in the album. Had Bucky even gone to prom? Tony shook it off -- question for another time -- and leaned against a stack of boxes. “Yep, it sure is. She grew up in this house, you know that?”

“I never saw it,” she said. “No pictures. Mom said this was a bad place.” She seemed more wistful than actually angry or upset.

“Just because your mom didn’t like it doesn’t mean it was bad. It just means she didn’t like it,” Tony pointed out. “It’s just a place. It has good things and bad things, like every place does.”

“Uncle Bucky says you’re fr’m New York City,” Billie said. “You like this more?”

“Most of the time,” Tony said. “There are things that I miss about New York, but there’s stuff I’m glad to get away from, too. And Bucky’s here, so that’s where I want to be.”

She flipped a few more pages. Six or seven-year-old Bucky on a bike with training wheels. A few shots of what looked like a fishing trip. A certificate for some school award. Another picture of Becca at some kind of party, one arm around-- oh, _god_ , was that a teenaged Thor Odinson? And Loki, skinny and sullen just behind them? Oh, god!

Bucky guarded the photo album like a precious treasure, but he didn’t _look_ at it very often, and Tony hadn’t pushed -- Bucky’s memories of his family were precious and complicated and volatile, and it wasn’t like Tony had many good stories of his own childhood to trade. But oh my _god_ this was _fantastic_. He hoped Bucky wasn’t going to be offended that they were looking at it.

A few more pages, and there weren’t any more of Becca; she’d left. Bucky, shooting a bow and arrow at a target. Bucky graduating from high school. Bucky and… Bucky and goddamn Alexander Pierce. It was a casual, Pierce at one of Dockside’s tables, a good-looking boy across the table from him and Bucky standing next to Pierce. He was smiling, but his eyes looked dead.

Tony growled before he could suppress the reaction. Fucking goddamn Pierce.

Billie had no interest in pictures of her Uncle Bucky. She shut the book after flipping through to the end. “C’n… c’n I play with this?” She patted the Falcon with one hand, trying to look like the answer didn’t matter. “I saw this in a movie once, on tv.”

Oh _god_. “Did you like it? The movie?”

Billie nodded, earnestly. “There was… there was a princess in prison an’ a big walking furry monster, but he was nice, he was, _really_. And… and a big black robot guy. Ms Hillard turned it off when it was bedtime, though.”

“Wait, you’ve seen _part_ of _Star Wars_ but not the whole movie?” That was... that had to be some kind of crime. Child abuse of some sort.

She shook her head. “No, I never saw th’ end. Mom said it was old. An’ cheesy. But I liked it.”

“Okay, it _is_ old, but it’s a series -- like your Treehouse books? Movies that go together. And they’re still making them _now_ , so the fact that some of them are old isn’t really that big a deal. Billie-the-kid, you and I are going to have to have a movie marathon very soon. And yes, absolutely, you can play with it.” It had been Tony’s, once, but he hadn’t known what to do with it when his mother had shipped all his old things to Sandbridge.

“Okay,” she said. She put the photo album down, picked up the ship like she was cuddling a baby, and walked out of the room. “Which bedroom was my mom’s?”

Tony pointed at the teal and yellow room. “That one.”

Billie peeked into the room. Unlike Bucky’s old bedroom, this one had an ocean view and the huge window had a cushioned reading seat. Billie climbed into the seat and discovered almost immediately that she could shut herself up in it, pulling the interior shutters closed. “I like it,” she said, her voice muffled behind the doors.

“Okay,” Tony said. “I’ll bring your stuff in and you can put it away when you’re ready. Let me know when you’re hungry and we’ll find you something to eat, too. I know it’s probably later than you’re used to being up.”

“Mmmmhmmm,” she answered, which wasn’t very informative, but whatever. Tony started loading her things into her room. They’d need to get some sort of table for the pigs, eventually. Otherwise Lucky would probably lick them to death once he discovered they were there. By the time he got everything into her room, Billie had gone completely silent. When Tony opened the shutter to see if she was crying or something, she was sound asleep in the window seat, still hugging the Falcon to her chest.

Poor kid. It had been a long day, a crappy end to an even crappier week. Sleeping in the window seat probably wasn’t good for her, though. Tony picked her up, as carefully as he could, and laid her on the bed, Falcon and all. He tugged off her sneakers and threw a spare blanket over her, then dug through her bag until he found the nightlight she’d brought from Atlanta and found a spare outlet to plug it in.

Maybe, hopefully, she’d feel a little better about the move in the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the smut-averse: smut ahead! When things start heating up, skip to the end for a plot summary.

Bucky had to hand it to Tony. Annoying as the process sheets had been to work up, they were a fucking miracle in performance. They had taken a few personal days, and Bucky hadn’t come back to a complete shambles. Well, no, even when Steve had misordered and other issues, it wasn’t that bad, just Bucky was very used to his system, so it was upsetting to him when it got all misaligned.

“Face it, Barnes,” he addressed his empty office. “You’re a control freak.”

“You are some sort of freak, that much is true,” Nat said, sticking her head around the doorframe. “Your trip, it was very terrible?”

“Coulda been less terrible,” Bucky agreed. “Not as bad as it could have been. Becca… she built a life down there for herself. She had friends. She’ll be missed. It’s as much as anyone could expect.”

“And the child?”

Bucky bit his lip. Tony hadn’t come down in a panic, or even texted, so he guessed it was either going all right, or his niece had turned into a horror-style zombie and was currently gnawing on Tony’s brain, or something. Oh, Christ, he was getting morbid. “She’s devastated.”

Nat nodded. “It will be an adjustment.”

Bucky nodded again. “Yep. For all of us, I reckon.”

“Go up and sleep,” Nat suggested. “You will have adjustment, as well. You may as well have sleep and some comfort, before you start adjusting.”

Bucky thought about that for a moment. A little comfort and then some sleep sounded wonderful. There’d just seemed something weird and wrong about sleeping in his sister’s bed and she hadn’t exactly had a guest room, so he and Tony had been sleeping on the fold-out sofa at Becca’s. Bucky had missed their exceptionally comfortable mattress at home, and he was kinda looking forward to sleeping in his own bed again… especially if he could talk Tony into a little mutual comfort. It usually wasn’t difficult… Bucky smiled, slow and easy.

“Go,” Nat said, pushing at him a little. “Before you get all sappy-looking on me.”

Right.

Out the door and up the stairs. Tony was on the sofa, absently flipping through channels with the volume turned way down. “She asleep, then?”

Tony looked up with a smile, like seeing Bucky was the best part of his day, even though they’d seen each other half an hour ago. “Yeah,” he said. “I didn’t even get a chance to feed her first. She’s in Becca’s room. Didn’t think I should leave her here, even just to run downstairs, though, in case she woke up.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “At least not for a few days, until she’s got a handle on everything. Ocean’s not that far away, we’ll need to make sure she can swim. An’ set up rules and whatnot. Until then, best we have some supervision.” Bucky walked over to where Tony was sitting and leaned in, one hand on either side of him, pinning him in. “Don’t suppose I might be able to convince you to go to bed early?” He didn’t _quite_ kiss his husband, just leaned in really, really close, letting the air between them simmer and heat.

“Hmm, depends,” Tony breathed. “You going to come with me?” He tipped his head, inviting the kiss rather than taking it, teasing.

Bucky let out a chuckle, low and wicked. “Well, that’s ideal, but it ain’t always practical. Sometimes I like t’ get you off first.”

Tony laughed. “That’s a terrible joke. It’s not even the first time you’ve made it. I think you owe me for having to listen to it again.” He slid his hands up Bucky’s chest, fingers lacing behind Bucky’s neck.

“For better or worse, for good jokes and bad,” Bucky said. “You promised, remember?” He let his fingers brush down the side of Tony’s face, cupped his jaw and drew him in. The kiss was slow, light, but nothing tentative about it. He loved kissing Tony; found himself daydreaming about it sometimes rather than working. Just kissing. He was pathetic. And in love. He flicked his tongue out and tasted Tony’s lip. “What kind of currency are you taking tonight?”

“Oh, the usual,” Tony said lightly, but his gaze was hot and his fingers were playing with the hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck. “BJ and a nice, slow fuck?”

“That’s a bit steep for one bad joke,” Bucky protested, licking at Tony’s lip until his mouth opened. He kissed slow, tasting and exploring the contours of Tony’s mouth and when he pulled back, they were both breathing harder. “I get at least two more jokes and a truly terrible pun for that.”

Tony pretended to consider it, fooling exactly no one. “Oh, I guess,” he conceded, and pulled Bucky back in. “They do say marriage is about compromise.”

Bucky allowed himself to be dragged down to the sofa, straddling Tony’s thighs. He captured Tony’s mouth for another long, slow kiss, then pulled back reluctantly. “Better take this to the bedroom,” he said. “And lock the door.”

“Mmhm,” Tony agreed, letting Bucky pull him to his feet. He glanced toward Billie’s door, and made a face. “We’re going to have to practice being _quiet_ , too,” he sighed.

“Yeah, well,” Bucky said, wincing a little. “That’s what sleepovers are for. Jus’ need to make sure she makes some friends, eventually.” He didn’t really want to be quiet, and hells bells, he loved listening to the noises that Tony made, but it if was be quiet or do without, he knew he’d try to keep it down. “We’ll go slow, yeah?” He flicked off the lights as they went, leaving the house shrouded in darkness, then pushed the door closed and locked it behind them.

Tony had done wonders changing up the decor in the master bedroom and Bucky loved it. And the bed. God, the bed was so nice. He kissed Tony all the way across the floor as he herded him in that general direction, stopping only once to pull his shirt off.

Tony was definitely on the same page, unbuttoning his shirt and putting his hands on Bucky and tugging at Bucky’s belt as he stepped back toward the bed in increments, never backing far enough to break their kissing. “God, honey,” he gasped, “oh, fuck, I need you.”

It never failed to drive Bucky crazy, Tony’s urgency. “Yeah,” he said, running his hands down Tony’s chest, thumbing his nipples erect on the way down, ending up with his hands on Tony’s hips. “Need’s a good word.” He slid his fingers under the waistband of Tony’s jeans, teasing right at the edge, where his skin was more sensitive from being hidden away under cloth all day, around to the small of his back until Tony was arching into his embrace.

Tony startled a little when he bumped into the bed, but then he let himself fall back onto it, pulling Bucky along, over him. He lifted his head to capture Bucky’s mouth in another kiss while his hands fumbled at the fly of Bucky’s jeans, cupping Bucky through them and teasing even while he worked them open.

Bucky inhaled, held it, then rolled his hips, pressing into Tony’s hand. God, that felt good, jolted him all the way down to the arches of his feet. He pushed Tony back flat onto the bed and covered him like a blanket, grinding against his thigh for a long, sensual moment, aching to relieve some of the pressure. He dropped another kiss on Tony’s mouth, went to pull back, but couldn’t resist it. Like a bee to a flower, he was just too enamoured of his husband’s lips. “Stop tempting me,” he accused, playfully. “You’ll get what you want faster if I can stop kissing you long enough to get undressed.”

Tony chuckled. “And how am I supposed to stop tempting you? I can’t stop having lips on command, you know.” He worked one hand inside Bucky’s jeans, curling around Bucky’s cock as he tugged the zipper open. “We seem to be doing okay.”

Bucky tucked his face against Tony’s shoulder and groaned, soft as he could. “Oh, god, that feels good, baby.” He nipped at Tony’s collarbone, then nuzzled the hollow of his throat until Tony tilted his head back. “Want you. Mmmmmhmm. So much.”

“Oh, yeah, sweetheart,” Tony said with a whisper of a groan. “Want... want you. Need you.” He threw his head back even further, a silent demand, and pulled his hands free from Bucky’s pants to yank impatiently at his own.

“You left your shoes on again,” Bucky teased, then, since he may as well give Tony a hand and he owed the man a blow job, slithered down to his knees by the side of the bed. One, two, off came the sneakers, and by that time Tony had rather frantically gotten his jeans undone. Bucky snagged the seams and when Tony lifted his hips, pulled them down.

Bucky gave it just a moment, staring at Tony’s pretty cock, so lovely, and then leaned in for a quick taste, just long enough for Tony to suck in a great needy breath. He popped off and as Tony whimpered in complaint, tugged his jeans the rest of the way down and off. He shoved Tony’s thighs apart and tucked himself into the vee. “Gotcha,” he said. He bent his head and took Tony in as far as he could, tongue wiggling inside his mouth to tease and taste.

Tony made a soft, muffled whine, and Bucky glanced up to see he’d stuffed his hand into his mouth to keep himself quiet. His other hand curled into Bucky’s hair, and his hips rolled a little, begging (somewhat) silently.

Once Bucky had Tony’s cock slick, he got a hand into the mix, twisting his wrist one way and flicking his tongue in the other direction, winding Tony up like a watch. Relentless, he mouthed at Tony’s cockhead, then dipped his tongue along the slit, teasing. Tasting precome, bitter and salty. When Tony’s breath started catching in his throat, Bucky slowed down, pulled off. Ran one wet finger along the length, tracing the vein. Nipped at Tony’s spread thighs until the muscles there were quaking.

“Ohgod,” Tony croaked behind his hand. “Bucky... Baby, _please_...”

“Something you wanted?” Bucky teased, as if he wasn’t just as eager, just as needy. He thumbed over the crown of Tony’s prick, smearing more precome, feeling his fingers get slick with it. Traced a line around the ridge, slow, and achingly light.

Tony bit down hard on his hand and whined. “Ohhh...... _fuck_ , Bucky, oh god...”

“I’ll get to that part,” Bucky promised. “Right now, gonna suck you right down my throat. Want you t’ come for me, baby, okay?” He stopped teasing, took Tony down deep and hard and fast, bobbing his head in eager movements, humming softly. He swallowed a few times, but he was still drooling down his chin a bit. Didn’t matter, god, Tony tasted so good. He writhed and wriggled against Bucky, hands in Bucky’s hair, pulling and directing. Perfect, yeah, just… Bucky sucked him down again, almost gagged. Nudged Tony’s hips, encouraging him to thrust. Wanting it. _Needing_ it.

Tony’s breath was ragged as he responded to those hints, bracing and rocking up into Bucky’s mouth, sliding against the soft palate and nearly into Bucky’s throat. And again, harder, and again. His breath hitched and he moaned, low and soft, “Oh, god, Bucky, you feel so-- so fucking good, so... oh god, oh god... Bucky, shit, yes, yes, that’s p-perfect, fuck, how do you-- Ohhh, shit, shit, god, I’m. Honey, I’m going to--”

Bucky grinned around his mouthful, tasted the burst of precome and then Tony hitched in a breath and held it. His dick twitched, hard, against Bucky’s tongue and --

A wailing sob rose up in the other room, reaching almost earsplitting levels.

Bucky cursed, pulled back, just as Tony exhaled and --

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Bucky got a facial, but usually not while someone was wailing in dismay. “Shit!” he hissed. He’d managed to turn his head at just the wrong moment too, and come was dripping out his freaking ear.

His own cock throbbed, angry and neglected. “Oh for god’s sake,” he muttered again, groping around for his tee-shirt. He wiped his face off, then, “Shit… I need… shit shit _shit_!”

A cramp lanced right up Bucky’s spine as his dick abruptly changed its mind about _everything_.

Tony was sitting up, panting half in reaction to his orgasm and half in reaction to Billie’s screaming. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” he rasped. He slid off the bed and then nearly fell onto the floor, legs still unsteady. He flailed and recovered and grabbed for his pants, trying to struggle into them. “Shit, oh god, what the--”

_Jesus Christ_. Bucky hadn’t had an actual case of blueballs since he was fourteen, and Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all the saints, that _hurt_.

Tony finished struggling into his jeans. He looked at Bucky and huffed a little. “Go clean up in the bathroom with the mirror, we are _not_ ready for those questions. I’ll go.”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky managed.

Tony dropped a quick kiss on Bucky’s cheek. “Sorry.” He yanked at the door, swore, rattled the knob and was gone.

“Ow.” Bucky said, very quietly, to the floor. He wanted to collapse face first onto the bed, but that was going to make a small mess into a larger mess. _Christ_. He heaved a few deep breaths, cramps already dying down, thank God. Thought about standing up, made an effort and got to his feet, almost tripped over Tony’s shoe but managed not to fall. Clean up. Right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot summary for the smut-averse: In the midst of Bucky and Tony having sex, Billie wakes up screaming from a nightmare, resulting in a bad case of coitus interruptus for Bucky.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another smutty chapter! Sorry, no-smut friends... I promise there's only one more smut in the story, and that one is closer to the end of the book. (For those of you who _do_ like smut... happy new year!) Everything is pretty much smut after the Pov chages to Tony.

Maggie L. Walker Primary school was a squat, ugly building. Gray stone and narrow windows. And everyone walked to school, practically. There were only two buses, but Uncle Bucky was walking her to school.

“Next year,” he said, easily, “you’ll get t’ take the bus down to the other building, but we’re real close now.”

Billie looked up at the sky. It wasn’t raining today, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t. She was dragging her feet and practically letting her brand new backpack scrape along the ground. The backpack was a gift, supposedly, but Billie didn’t like it. It was pink and ugly and stupid.

She kicked a rock sullenly. “I don’t want to go to school,” she said. “I’m sad.”

It was only the third day at her new school, but she’d figured that one out right away. The teacher, Miss Potts, had introduced her to the class, explaining that she’d recently lost her mom and that the other students should take care to be especially nice to her. Mostly that had meant the other students left her alone, but it also meant that no one talked to her.

And she’d gotten out of at least two activities she didn’t want to do by saying she was sad. Miss Potts had smiled at her and told her she could read a book, if she didn’t want to do crafts, or just sit, when she didn’t want to play dodgeball.

Uncle Bucky gripped her hand a little tighter -- there wasn’t a sidewalk where they were, and sometimes the cars came by really fast. It was scary and Billie was happy that he chose to walk closer to the road with her tucked on the inside. “I know you are, sweetheart,” he said. “And that’s only to be expected. You’ll be sad. It’s okay. But we can’t just stop livin’ because someone we loved has left us. Your mom wouldn’t want that.”

Well, she hadn’t exactly been sad before he said that. She was a little sad. She missed her mom. She missed her home. But she hadn’t been ready to _cry_ until he said anything. She jerked her hand out of his grip. “She doesn’t want anything anymore because she’s _dead_!”

“Hey, Mister Barnes,” someone yelled. One of the girls from Billie’s class ran up to them, leaving her parent behind with a startled, “Kendra!”

“Oh, hey,” Uncle Bucky said, turning. “Billie, you remember Kendra Casper, right? She’s Jody’s sister, and Sam’s niece.”

Billie just looked at him. Was she supposed to remember everybody Uncle Bucky talked about? She’d met Sam, she thought. “No.”

The girl, taller than Billie by a few inches, with a skinned knee visible under her orange and yellow skirt, and wearing matching beads in her braided hair, grinned. “I’m in your class,” she said. “You’re Isabelle Barnes.”

“ _Billie_ ,” Billie insisted. “Nobody calls me Isabelle except _teachers_.”

“Mister Barnes,” Kendra said, “Mom said that if you said it was okay, me and Billie could walk together t’ school, an’ save you the walk?”

“I don’t mind walking,” Uncle Bucky said, but Billie stared at Kendra like she was a fairy princess offering a wish.

“Oh, yes, _yes_ , we could do that, couldn’t we, Uncle Bucky?” She grabbed Kendra’s hand and the girl twined her fingers with Billie’s. “We’d be safe and everything, I promise.”

Anything to not have these… _conversations_ anymore.

Mrs. Casper, Sam’s sister, came up behind them, panting for air, as she’d jogged to catch up. “Sorry, sorry, I shoulda asked you first, but Kendra was so enthusiastic ‘bout the idea. You can see the school from your widow’s walk, thought it would be okay, though. Give the girls a little independence, right?”

Billie was bored now. She didn’t want to listen to adults anymore. She turned to her brand-new best friend. “Race you?”

They were off and running before Uncle Bucky could do more than yell, “Come straight home after!” And then she couldn’t hear him anymore at all. _Yay_!

***

The sound of the door filtered slowly down into Tony’s mostly-sleeping brain, and he was only just beginning to crack one eye to check the time -- it didn’t _feel_ like it had been long enough for Bucky to have gotten Billie all the way to school yet -- when the bed bounced with Bucky’s weight flopping down beside him. “Mmph?” Tony managed. He managed to get his eye open. Bucky had only been gone ten minutes.

“I’ve been parenting for all of two weeks,” Bucky said, “and I’m already being deemed useless. Kendra asked her mom if she an’ Billie could walk together. Alone. Without adults. Because adults suck.”

“This adult definitely sucks,” Tony said, almost entirely on reflex. “Particularly well, even.”

“Mmmm, yeah,” Bucky said. “Was that an observation, or an offer?”

Tony levered his other eye open and pushed up onto his elbows. “Could be an offer, if you’re interested,” he said. “Kid’s at school, we don’t have anywhere we need to be for a couple of hours. And I do believe I owe you one...”

Bucky ran one hand over the tangled mop of Tony’s bedhead. “I wasn’t keepin’ score,” he said, “but… yeah. I’m interested, if you can be convinced.” Bucky stretched out on the bed and kicked his shoes off.

“I’m convinced,” Tony said, grinning. He rolled over, half on top of Bucky, and started working his hand under Bucky’s shirt, nudging it up so he could touch the warm skin underneath. “Pretty much permanently convinced to put my mouth on you.”

“It’s a hardship,” Bucky said, a little on the breathless side of sarcastic, “but I’ll manage.” He arched up under Tony’s hands. He gripped his tee at the back of his neck and yanked it off over his head.

“Your brave and noble sacrifice will not go unrewarded,” Tony promised solemnly, then dragged his tongue across Bucky’s nipple. He grinned at the way Bucky’s breath caught, and did it again, flicking at the soft skin until it hardened into a peak, closing his mouth over it to suck on it until Bucky was groaning. He fumbled with the button of Bucky’s jeans -- ug, clothes, such a hassle.

Bucky ran a hand down Tony’s back, slipped under his sleep pants and cupped his ass, giving a little squeeze. Tony made a noise, some sort of noise, and then Bucky was laughing. “You’re like a squeaky toy,” he said, getting both hands on Tony’s ass and squeezing again, more aggressively. “It’s adorable.”

Tony lifted his head to give Bucky an unimpressed glare, though the way Bucky laughed, it probably came out a little closer to sleepy-disgruntled. “The word you’re looking for,” Tony informed him, “is _sexy_.” He considered threatening to withhold the promised blowjob, but it had been _days_ since they’d had enough alone-time to have sex; there was no way that threat had any teeth. Instead, he just propped himself up on one elbow and focused on getting Bucky’s pants undone.

“Can I help it,” Bucky reasoned, “that your ass is literally the most perfect thing I have ever seen in my life? I could write epic poetry to how amazing your ass is.” Bucky had both hands inside Tony’s sleep pants, ran his fingers along the curve, then teased up his crack until Tony was squirming.

“That’s-- ah, nnng! --better,” Tony panted. Finally, pants open, and Tony peeled them back. “Mr. Barnes-Stark,” he gasped, “have you been walking around commando all morning?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just wriggled closer and started in licking and sucking. Oh, _god_ , that was nice.

“... need to get a load of laundry -- oh, _god_! Tony! Shit, that’s... “ Bucky went straight from being a smug jerk to writhing with need. It was gratifying, listening to the way Bucky’s voice went up a register, the way his hand bunched up in the blankets as if to keep from flying off the bed.

Tony hummed happily. Making Bucky forget how to talk was one of his favorite things. He pulled at the jeans, nudging until Bucky got with the program and helped him work them off. “Mmm, want you so much,” Tony sighed. He settled between Bucky’s legs and swallowed that gorgeous cock right down, dragging his tongue along the underside.

Bucky shoved his hair back with one hand, groaning. “You got me, whenev-- oh, _Christ_. Yeah, that’s…” He pulled his legs up until his heels were digging into the mattress, then spread his thighs wide, making himself an offering to Tony’s eager mouth. The taste of him was suddenly stronger and he rolled his hips light, pressing into Tony’s throat for only an instant before Tony pushed him down again, holding him still.

“Just relax, baby,” Tony said, pulling off to cover Bucky’s cock in flickering licks and gentle nips, teasing at the most sensitive spots. “I’ve got you, I’m going to make you feel so good...”

“ _Relax_ , he says.” Bucky was babbling now, talking to the pillow or something. “Like that’s fuckin’ possible when he’s doing th--AAAT. Oh, god, Tony. Tony, yeah, like… oh, please.” Bucky squirmed like he couldn’t possibly stay still, hands wandering from the sheets to grip, to scrubbing at his face, to twined in Tony’s hair.

Tony groaned, rolling his own hips against the bed and taking Bucky a little deeper, nudging against the back of his throat. God, he loved this, loved the feel of Bucky in his mouth, the salty-bitter taste, the sounds Bucky made when-- That sound was not Bucky. What the hell was... Was that the fucking _phone_?

“Someone _hates_ me,” Bucky moaned. “That’s gotta be it.” Bucky’s pocket, on the floor, was merrily playing --

“Husband, mine,” Tony said, “why is your phone playing ‘Hot for Teacher’?”

“Christ,” Bucky swore. He practically knocked Tony on the floor, reaching for his jeans. “It’s the _school_.” That… did not answer Tony’s question in a reassuring manner. He’d only been introduced to Billie’s teacher once, but Miss Potts was _gorgeous_.

“Fuuuuuck,” Tony groaned, and flopped over onto his back, throwing his arm over his face while he listened to Bucky’s half of the conversation and wondering just how Billie had managed to cockblock them _this_ time.

“Hello.” Bucky managed to sound reasonably calm. “Yes, yeah, this is -- oh, _did_ she? Seriously?” Bucky groaned. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. Just… no, no, I understand. Yes, I’m taking it seriously. Well, what did… okay, sure. Give us…” Bucky looked up at the clock, then down at his dick, which wasn’t flagging _at all_. “Forty minutes. Thank you, Mr. Jameson.”

Bucky pushed the disconnect and dropped his phone on the bedside table. “Yep. Someone hates me.”

“Becca’s ghost is laughing at you,” Tony agreed. He peered at Bucky from under his arm. “Should I even ask?”

“She punched someone,” Bucky admitted. “We gotta go in for a conference with her and the principal and the other kid and the other kid’s parents. Ugggg.”

“Did... they say _why_ she punched someone?” Tony hardly dared to ask.

“No,” Bucky said. “We can ask when we get there.” He gave Tony a particularly hangdog look. “I don’t suppose… I mean, we… I really do _not_ want to talk to the principal with my second case of blueballs this _week_.”

Tony laughed. “Is that why you said forty minutes?” he asked. It only took ten or fifteen minutes to walk to the school. He sat up and then pushed Bucky down to the bed. “Gotta squeeze in a fast shower and make coffee, too, so buckle up, we’re taking the express.”

“Thank _god_ ,” Bucky murmured, running his hand down the side of Tony’s jaw. “I will love you forever.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, you were going to do that anyway.” He kissed Bucky’s palm where it brushed his cheek, then curled his hand around the base of Bucky’s cock and swallowed it down, as deep into his throat as he could take it, and then started working it relentlessly.

Bucky was moaning and whining in moments, tossing his head from side to side. “Tony, Tony… oh… oh, god, Tony!” He arched up off the bed; would have shaken Tony loose except his arms clasped around Tony’s head. He cried out, loud and shameless, as he came. He shuddered all over, then went boneless down onto the mattress. “Oh, _god_.”

Tony licked the spilled come from his lips and grinned down at his husband. “Feeling better?”

“You are perfect and wonderful and I owe you all the ice cream,” Bucky said, dreamily. “Mmmm. Gimme a sec, I’ll get coffee going and then finish you off in the shower? Hmm, would you like that?”

“Yes,” Tony said decisively. “Yes, I would.” He rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom. “Don’t take too long or I’ll start without you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Tony get involved in the smut again and the school calls to let them know Billie got in a fist fight.


	9. Chapter 9

Sitting in Principal J. Jonah Jameson’s office was pretty damn horrible.

First off, there was Billie who had been crying and was now just sitting next to him, sniffling and kicking her feet sullenly and refusing to look at anyone.

Then there was the fact that it was the same damn horrible principal’s _office_ that Bucky himself had sat in more than a few times while he was attending school. Bucky sat down in what might have even been the same damn chair; wouldn’t surprise him any. The school was reluctant to replace anything until it absolutely had to be done.

On the plus side, it was a new principal. Zola had retired about five years ago or so, and the new principal was someone Bucky hadn’t met before. Which meant, unlike with his old first grade teacher that he’d passed in the hallway on the way here, the new guy wasn’t someone with a lot of background on Bucky. He hoped. He wasn’t sure what passed for office gossip in a school system.

They were still waiting on the other kid’s parents. The mom worked up in Suffolk, which could mean anywhere from another twenty minutes to an hour, depending on traffic. Bucky slanted a look at Tony and wished he’d known _that_ earlier.

They’d caught a glimpse of the other kid as they’d walked into the office. He was sitting on a chair with an ice bag held over his chin and blood down his shirt. Apparently Billie’d hit him twice, given him a bloody nose and a bruise on his jaw.

Jameson had greeted them loudly (the guy didn’t seem to do anything that wasn’t at top volume, although Bucky wasn’t sure that was anger so much as a combination of deafness and working with about a hundred kids under the age of eight all the time) and then excused himself to work on other problems until the other kid’s parents arrived.

“Billie,” Bucky started, again. “Want to tell me what happened?”

Billie looked around the room, her eyes darting from Bucky to Tony and back, and then back down at her knees. “Not really.”

“We want to be on your side here,” Tony put in. “But we can’t do that if we don’t know what happened.”

Billie shrugged. “Don’t matter,” she muttered.

_Ugggggg_. It would be slightly less annoying, Bucky supposed, if he didn’t recognize himself. Very frustrating, talking to someone that he more or less agreed with. Doesn’t matter, he knew that very well. Gonna be in trouble anyway. And of course she was; fighting at school was often a suspendable offense. “Well, you can tell us, or the other kid can tell us when his parents get here,” Bucky said, trying for reasonable. Ma had always gone with the “because I said so” style of parenting, and Bucky didn’t want to do that, but he supposed parental fiat was going to happen eventually. “So, this is your best chance for a fair trial, so to speak.”

Billie crossed her arms across her chest and swung her legs harder. “He said nasty stuff to me an’ Kendra an’ ‘Roro an’ it was _mean_ an’ he _deserved it_.”

Bucky’s eyebrow went up. “You want to be a little more specific? What exactly did he say?” There were some things that were intolerable, although most stuff that kids said to each other was just shittalk and while Bucky was quite firmly of the opinion that children could learn to be kind, hitting was generally _right out_ as far as responses went.

She leaned out, looking past Tony to where her erstwhile victim was waiting for his parents on the bench in the main office. She glared at him, and flopped angrily back in her seat. “He said we was a _Oreo_.”

Well, that was specific. And nasty. “That was a bit racist of him,” Bucky said, mildly. He wasn’t sure who ‘Roro was, but he could guess.

“It’s _awful_ ,” Billie burst, suddenly on the verge of tears again. “Mom said you shouldn’t be mean to people ‘cause of their skin or ‘cause of whether they’re a boy or a girl or ‘cause of who they love ‘cause nobody can _help_ that stuff!”

“Nor would want to, even if we could,” Tony agreed. “Good motive. Wrong response.”

“And it’s good, to stick up for your friends,” Bucky said. And he was glad she was _making_ friends. “But part of being a student and a citizen is not hitting people. What he did was bad, I agree. And hurtful. Hitting him was not a good way to react. You can tell a teacher. Discipline is part of their job.”

“ _Ugggghhh_ ,” she groaned. “Teachers never listen!”

“Miss Potts seems very nice,” Bucky said. “And if she doesn’t listen, you can tell me. You know one of the nice things about living in a small town?” He glanced out at the kid again. “That’s Jeffrey Mace, I’m pretty sure --” He waited to see if Billie would agree, but she just shrugged. “If so, I know his father. Which means if the teacher doesn’t do anything, I can speak with him about it, okay?”

Billie huffed out an impressive _I am surrounded by idiots_ sigh and slumped a little further down into her chair, but didn’t actively argue with him. That was progress, right? Also, dear lord, if this was what she was like at seven, she was going to be a _nightmare_ of a teenager. Bucky was really, really, _really_ not looking forward to that.

Finally, Aida Mace arrived. And then they had to wait for Jameson to finish whatever he was doing so they could conference up. Ug. Well, at least Bucky was his own boss and didn’t have to worry about getting back to work promptly. (Well, he did, because Nat would probably have words to say, but she couldn’t dock his pay or anything, at least.)

Jeffrey, who had been more or less stoically holding his cold pack on his face the whole time, burst into tears as soon as he saw his mother. “Mama! Mama she _hit_ me!”

Aida tipped his face up to examine his bruises, her mouth set in a grim line. “Got you good, too,” she said. She looked up and spotted Bucky, and her eyebrows went way, _way_ up.

Bucky wanted, desperately wanted, to drop his head and groan. He had this… reputation around Sandbridge that he would probably never live down. He’d been arrested for assault not even ten years ago and spent a few months in jail for it. It hadn’t occurred to him that it was going to affect Billie. He glanced at Tony, then, in rapid, low Russian, said, “< _Crap_. She knows about my stint in prison. This. Might get nasty. >”

Tony blinked at Bucky a couple of times -- _prison_ probably wasn’t part of his Russian vocabulary yet, not coming up much in day-to-day conversation, which was how Nat was teaching him -- but then he grimaced in understanding. “ <I can do the talking, if it will help?>”

Bucky shrugged. “<Probably won’t make it worse. Which I might.>”

Mrs. Mace pressed her lips together for a moment, then turned to the principal. “What do you plan to do about this, then? We can’t just have students roaming the halls, randomly assaulting people!”

“We agree,” Tony said quickly. “That was definitely a poor choice on Billie’s part, and we’ll be discussing that with her. But I’d like to point out that she’s had her world upended in the last week, and to have someone throwing racist epithets at her and her friends is bound to be upsetting. And also,” he said pointedly to Jameson, “ought not be allowed.”

Principal Jameson leaned forward on his desk. “Violence is never a solution,” he said, voice louder than Bucky, at least, appreciated in the enclosed space. Billie flinched and when Bucky put his hand on her arm, she actually wrapped both of hers around his bicep, clinging like a limpet. Which gave him all sorts of weird, squirmy feelings in his gut, protective and scared and angry and warm all at the same time.

“He was _mean_ ,” Billie burst out.

“I wasn’t!” Jeffrey protested. “Mama, I wasn’t! She just _hit_ me for _no reason_!”

“You did say a pretty terrible thing to Billie and her friends,” Tony said in his _reasoning with idiots_ tone.

“I didn’t!”

“He did!” Billie protested. “We were all standin’ together an’ he said we looked like an _Oreo cookie_! That’s racist!”

Mrs. Mace froze, her eyes wide, and then turned to look at her son in horror. “Jeffrey!”

“What?” he said desperately. “I’s tryna be _nice_ , Oreos are the _best cookies!_ ”

Mrs. Mace dropped her face into her hand. “Lord give me strength.”

Tony rubbed at his beard to try to cover the way he was struggling not to laugh.

Bucky took a deep breath. “She’s from Atlanta,” he said, reasonably. “I suspect racial epithets are pretty thick on the ground, sometimes.”

Mrs. Mace slanted a glance at him. “And the Barnes temper doesn’t help. She still hit him, reasonable or not.”

“And we will definitely deal with that,” Tony said. “We’ve already talked about it some, and we’ll try to make sure the lesson is learned. She definitely should have gone to a teacher first. We’re not disputing that.”

Jeffrey looked from Tony to his mother and then back at the principal, who was -- damn him -- just sort of smirking about the whole thing. “I don’t understand.”

Mrs. Mace sighed. “Honey, it’s rude to call attention to the color of people’s skin like that. And it’s rude to compare people to food. Even your favorite.”

Jameson sighed. “Given the circumstances, I’m willing to put a note in her record, and write it off as a warning. Isabelle recently lost her mother and had to relocate. Those events are stressful, even for adults. If both children apologize to the other and write out a paragraph indicating that they understand what they did wrong and how to better be social in a similar situation.”

Billie whined, deep in the back of her throat, but Bucky shot her a look and she subsided. “I’m sorry I hit you just ‘cause I thought you were being a jerk,” she mumbled, more or less in Jeffrey’s direction. Tony snorted and turned it into a throat-clearing exercise, clearly still suppressing amusement.

Jeffrey seemed to take that in the spirit in which it was intended. “I’m sorry I tried to be nice,” he shot back.

“Jeffrey,” Mrs. Mace said, warning.

“I’m sorry I accidentally said a mean thing,” he tried again.

“Better.”

Jameson clapped his hands together, which made Billie flinch again, tucking herself against Bucky’s arm. “Well, that’s settled, then. Back to class --”

“I’m going to take Jeffrey home,” Mrs. Mace said. “It’s pointless for me to try to get back to work, this late, and I’d only just get home when I’d have to come back to get him. And I can give him some Tylenol and get him a clean shirt.” She still looked angry, but Bucky supposed he couldn’t really blame her. He’d be pretty pissed off if someone gave Billie a bloody nose, too.

“Just sign him out up front,” Jameson said, waving her off. “Thanks for coming in. Isabelle, back to class now, missy.”

“Why does he get t’ go home early?” Billie muttered, kicking her feet at the carpet sullenly. Oh, god, she was just going to be lovely at thirteen. Bucky could imagine it now.

“Because he’s the injured party, here,” Tony said. “Literally, in this case.” He turned back to Mrs. Mace. “If that blood doesn’t come out, we’ll replace the shirt,” he said.

Mrs. Mace nodded, then put her arm around her son and ushered him away. Jeffrey was practically skipping on his way to the front office; not that badly hurt, Bucky thought. “Go on to class,” he said, putting his hand on Billie’s back and turning her toward the door. “We’ll see you after.”

Billie heaved an enormous sigh, really too big to come out of such a little girl and stomped off.

Tony patted Bucky’s arm. “There, there.”

Principal Jameson stood up. “Thanks for coming in,” he said. “I’ll expect those lines from her tomorrow. Good day.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said. He knew that technically, Billie could have been expelled, and that would have just been… difficult. “We’ll have us some talk, tonight.”

Bucky didn’t quite flee from the office, but he did walk a little faster than normal until they were out of the building. Not… entirely a failed parenting expedition.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Dinner’s up!” Tony announced brightly, bringing the tray into Bucky’s office, where Billie sat carefully rolling silverware into napkins for tomorrow’s lunch. She’d probably have already begged off to go upstairs and watch TV, now that her homework was done, except that they had decided she should earn the money to replace Jeffrey Mace’s ruined tee shirt.

She looked up eagerly -- any distraction was a good distraction, Tony figured -- until he put the plate down in front of her.

“Uggggg, cheeseburger _again_?” she whined.

“You said you didn’t want the fish special tonight,” Tony reminded her. “Or the crabcakes.”

“Crabcakes are gross,” Billie said, as if Tony hadn’t already heard this opinion a dozen times. “I’ve had like a million cheeseburgers. I’m _bored_.”

“Buttercup, you know that if Bucky and I are both working--”

“Can’t cook, I know,” she grumbled. She picked up one french fry, took a bite, and dropped it back on the plate. “I’m not hungry.”

Tony sighed. “Okay. How many more do you have to go?”

Billie checked her pile of flatware, counting quickly. “Fifteen.”

That would take her a little while; she wasn’t exactly a speedy roller. “Okay, you do that and I’ll see if Steve has any ideas of what else you can eat. Okay?”

“After I’m done can I go upstairs and watch TV?”

“Ask Bucky.” Tony grinned at her disgruntled face and took the disdained burger back into the kitchen. “Hey, Chef! Table Zero says they didn’t order the ennui burger.”

Steve flipped several burger patties over in a row before tossing a sigh over his shoulder. Yeah, Tony was just getting it in all directions today. “I can do just about any kind of eggs, or… oh, hey check in the pantry, third shelf, over on the south end, there might be some elbow macaroni left over if mac and cheese is a thing?”

“That’s a good idea,” Tony said. “I’ll eat Her Highness’ rejected burger, don’t throw it out or anything.” He left her plate on the side of the prep counter where it wouldn’t be in the way and ducked into the pantry. (It had taken him a little while to get used to Steve’s directions. Who knew which way “south” was when you were in a windowless room? But he had it pretty well figured out now.)

Yep, sure enough, big box of macaroni, left over from that week they’d had an overabundance of crab and Steve had decided to make a cold macaroni salad with it for the special. Tony grabbed the box and brought it back out into the kitchen. “Macaroni, as ordered,” Tony said. He shook the box at Steve and then left it on the counter so he could make a drink-refill pass through the dining room.

Bucky was helping Nat wait tables through the dinner rush. “Everything okay out here?” Tony asked as he passed with the tea pitchers.

“Not too bad,” Bucky said. “If you’ve got a minute, could you poke the credit system, it’s not taking American Express tonight, and that’s been a pain in my ass. I haven’t had time to call them, see if it’s somethin’ on their end.” Bucky grabbed another pen -- people were always stealing pens, even when they had big stupid paper flowers attached to the ends -- and disappeared again.

By the time that issue was taken care of, Tony got back into the kitchen, took two bites out of his (now cold) burger, grabbed the bowl for Billie out from under the heat lamp and almost stepped on her. “I’m done,” she said. “C’n I eat out on the porch?”

Despite her original complaints about the ocean, she’d gotten rather interested in it when a bad storm had washed up dozens of sand dollars and starfish. Bucky had her signed up for swim lessons at the Y and she wasn’t allowed near the shore without an adult, but she did keep wanting to look at the water.

“Yep. You know the rules, though; stay--”

“Out of the way of the customers,” she finished with a put-upon sigh. “I _know_ , Uncle Tony.”

“Okay, have at.” At least watching the ocean kept her occupied for a while. It was kind of rough on her, the nights they both worked.

Tony was just racking up the clean dishes when Bucky stormed into the kitchen, holding Billie’s empty bowl. “What _is_ this? Steve, where --” He spied the pot on the range and peered in it. “Oh, thank god.”

“What’s wrong?” Tony turned around, almost slipping in alarm.

“What, it’s just mac and cheese,” Steve said.

“Tell me you have a recipe for this,” Bucky said. “That you didn’t just throw shit in a pot.”

“Why?”

“Because we have _four orders_ for it already,” Bucky snapped. He pulled out bowls and divided what was left in the pot. “Aaargh, not quite. Can you make more?”

“I made it for _Billie_ ,” Steve protested. “How does anybody even know about it?”

“Because your wife snitched a forkful and practically had a _Harry Met Sally_  moment right in the middle of the dining room during the dinner rush!”

Tony looked into the box of macaroni. There was enough there for one more batch, probably. “I’ll make a note to run to the store tomorrow morning,” he said. “New item for the summer menu?”

Nat came into the kitchen, grabbed a spoon and ran it round the bottom of the pot, catching some excess cheese. “You may henceforth substitute a bowl of this for one in three orgasms you owe me.” She stuck the spoon in her mouth and made an obscene groaning noise.

Bucky made Vanna White arms in Nat’s direction. “This? I get _this_ , in the middle of the dinner rush? Control your woman, Steve.”

Nat stuck her tongue out at Bucky and threw the (now licked clean) spoon at him. It bounced off his forehead as she flounced out of the kitchen. He grabbed the two bowls and headed back into the dining room with a “Figure it out!” thrown over his shoulder as he nudged the swinging door open with his hip.

Steve took a deep breath. “You know, orgasms are easier. More fun, too.” He looked over at the prep area. “Help me figure this out, Tony.”

“What’s to figure?” Tony asked, but he slung on an apron and came around to the prep station. “What do you need?”

“Well, it was a basic white sauce base, but I used the bacon grease for about half the butter, ‘cause we haven’t got that much left,” Steve muttered. “And… what cheese did I pull out? Shit, I wasn’t paying attention, it’s just mac and cheese.”

Tony peered into the sad remains of the pot. “Not cheddar,” he said. “Or American. It’s not orange.” He hadn’t paid much attention to it when he’d handed it off to Billie. He glanced left and right to make sure no customers were looking, and dragged his finger through the remnant. “...Gouda? Steve, did you put gouda in mac and cheese for a _seven-year-old_?”

Steve shrugged. “Probably? Maybe? Is there something wrong with that? I know I added diced tomato, we had some roasted slices, and you know they don’t last. Billie needs some vegetables in her diet anyway. ”

Tony dragged his finger through it again before dropping the pot into the dishwasher. “This is too stringy to be _just_ gouda. What’ve we got on hand that goes gooey?”

Steve smacked himself in the forehead. “Oh, those fresh mozzarella balls, you know the ones, plastic container, in the water? We got a sample from that vendor, but I don’t usually use that kind of cheese. I thought I’d toss some in there, use ‘em up.”

“Guess we’re going to have to add it to the order this week,” Tony said, grinning. “You got enough to make another batch tonight?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.” He wiped his forehead off with his apron. “You know, this is exactly why I do short order.” He scowled at the door where Bucky had gone.

Tony patted Steve’s brick-like arm. “Mac-and-cheese is re-heatable, though, and it looks like this is going to be a big hit. You make a huge batch once a week and we’ll just heat ‘n’ serve from there. Maybe only for the summer or something, if you really hate it.”

“I don’t hate it,” Steve grumbled. “But it was for Billie. That’s _Billie’s mac_. It wasn’t meant for… everyone.” He filled his boiler up with water again and set it to heat. Steve had very particular feelings about cooking and love.

“So we’ll name it after her on the menu,” Tony soothed, touched that Steve was thinking of Billie like family already. “Billie’s Mac. Meh, too hard to say. Billie-mac.”

Steve was already melting down butter with bacon fat. “Sure, that’ll be sweet. Tell the boss and the wench it’ll be about twelve minutes on that order.”

“I will tell them,” Tony agreed. “I will _not_ tell your wife you’re calling her a wench, though. You want to get in trouble with her again, do it on your own time.”

Steve laughed. “I _always_ want to get in trouble with my wife.”

***

Tony hung up the phone and threw it on the table, then flopped over on the couch and covered his face with both hands. “I’m sorry,” he groaned. “I couldn’t stop her.”

Bucky looked up from where he was patiently explaining adverbs to Billie for probably the eighth time in the last two weeks -- Billie had all the irrational prejudices against adverbs that a science and math junkie could develop and Tony was weirdly proud of that -- and pushed his hair out of his face. “Couldn’t stop what?”

“My mother,” Tony said. “She’s _coming_.”

“She’s hardly Godzilla,” Bucky pointed out. “I don’t think she’s planning to stomp the house flat.”

Tony lifted his head to give his husband an exasperated stare, because really, had Bucky not been paying attention _at all_ during the wedding planning? “Do you know when she first started planning for having grandbabies?” he asked. “Neither do I, because I was _too young_. If she doesn’t flatten the house, she’s at _least_ going to flatten a few stores.”

“I like your mother,” Bucky said. “Once she gave over the idea of having Jan as a daughter-in-law, she’s been a delight. Honest, Tony, you two are a lot alike.”

“I was never going to marry Jan, she’s like my bratty little sister,” Tony said. “I only went with her to prom because I was the only guy she knew who was willing to let her treat me like a dress-up doll. And I’m going to pretend you did not say that about me and Mom, because there is a child present.” He stuck his tongue out at Bucky. “She doesn’t even care that the rental is already booked for the whole summer, she’s just going to get a suite somewhere.” He eyed Billie. “It’s been nice knowing you, kid.”

Billie scowled at him -- or maybe at her homework -- and it was a good look on her. Which was somehow appropriate, since she did it most of the time. If her face was going to get stuck that way, at least it was attractive. “I’m not a baby,” she protested. “And not _your_ baby. So how can she be _my_ grandmother?”

“Look, my husband is your legal guardian,” Tony said. “You’re the closest thing she’s going to get to an actual real grandchild, and she’s not going to let anything like logic stand in her way. She’s... probably going to insist that you call her Grandmother or something, I don’t know.”

“You could buy her a cat,” Billie said, going back to her homework. She circled an word in the sentence. “Why do we have to call the tree _green_? Trees are _always_ green. If it’s a tree, it’s green. Duh!”

“Sometimes they’re brown,” Tony pointed out. “Also, those white Christmas trees have been making a comeback, god only knows why. And that’s an adjective, not an adverb, buttercup.”

Billie scowled harder and started rubbing her paper with an eraser hard enough that she was in danger of shredding it. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Tony said, “but some things we just have to endure. Case in point: my mother.”

“Your _mother_ is an adverb,” Billie muttered. And then she looked even madder when Bucky fell off the sofa, laughing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the at-home recipe for [Billie-Mac](https://tisfan.tumblr.com/post/169306352629/billie-mac)


	11. Chapter 11

Billie didn’t know what to expect from a grandmother.

A lot of her friends back at her old school had them. Some kids had two. And she knew one boy who had four grandmothers, which was just confusing.

She supposed she could tolerate having one. Maybe. If she was nice and didn’t pinch Billie’s cheeks, because she’d heard grandmothers did that. Except that Uncle Bucky had made her put on a clean shirt, after school. She’d spilled paint on her school shirt and it would wash off, it was _fine_. But no, she had to _change_. She had to look _presentable_ and not like a _hoyden_ , whatever that was.

And then she had to comb her hair, which was just… Mom had always brushed her hair at bedtime and braided it up, so in the morning it was untangled and had a little crinkle to it. Uncle Bucky never did that and so morning was an awful fuss. Getting her hair combed _hurt_. Uncle Bucky had eventually offered two choices: deal with the comb, or get a haircut.

Billie didn’t want her hair cut. Mom had liked her long hair. Had wanted to play with it and braid it and put it up. Sometimes the styles were silly -- like when Billie had wanted Princess Leia buns. But sometimes they were nice, too.

At Dockside, Billie just wore her hair long and down. Sometimes Uncle Bucky would pull it back in a ponytail, especially when she was working. But that was all.

“... just had to give Philip the time off, dear,” a woman was saying. “He’s been seeing a young lady from the symphony orchestra, you know. A cellist. So, since I’m here, and you can look after me as well as he can, he’s taking her to Seattle, for the week.”

“Seattle, really?” That was Uncle Tony, getting louder as he came up the stairs. “Well, whatever floats his boat. Or hers, I guess.” The door opened and he spotted her right away, and gave her a grin. “Oh, hey, there she is. Billie, this is my mom, Mrs. Stark.” He stepped aside, and the woman came in past him.

Mrs. Stark was not what Billie would have thought of as a grandmother. She was beautiful. And had blonde hair piled on her head in a lovely soft bun. And she had a beautiful dress on. With a big diamond necklace.

“Mrs. Stark,” Mrs. Stark said, making a gracefully exasperated gesture at Uncle Tony. “Pshaw. No, no, no. You, darling, you will call me Grandmama, yes? That will be lovely. And I shall call you Isabella, beautiful girl, because you are a beautiful girl.” She twisted into a squat and spoke to Billie in a conspiratorial voice, “I am, technically, your great-aunt. Great-Auntie Maria, which sounds _ghastly_ , don’t you agree? I am certain I would be a _great_ aunt. But not a Great-Aunt. Heavens.”

Billie was startled into a giggle. She put her hand over her mouth and looked at Uncle Bucky, but he didn’t look mad, so maybe it was funny on purpose? Adults were so weird. She wondered if she could convince Mrs. Stark to call her Billie. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said politely, because Uncle Bucky had been going on and _on_ about how she had to be polite to Uncle Tony’s mom.

“It’s good to see you again, Mom,” Uncle Bucky said, taking Mrs. Stark’s hand and kissing both her cheeks.

“It’s lovely to see you, too, James,” Mrs. Stark said. Billie didn’t miss the way Uncle Bucky rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything, so she guessed that was a no on the name thing. “Now, on to important things. I am going to take this child for the rest of the day. And you will not fuss about -- No, Antonio, you will not _come with_ us. I am perfectly capable of taking care of one child for an afternoon. And you and I, darling, we are going to have great fun and become very good friends. Will that be nice?”

Billie hesitated. She was supposed to be polite and nice, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be _alone_ with Mrs. Stark for a whole afternoon. “Where are we going?” she hedged.

“Well, I shall leave over dress shopping until your Auntie Janet can join us -- she has a very good eye for that sort of thing, you know. But there are _toy_ stores, and _doll_ stores, and I have tickets for the _zoo_ , where I have a very _special_ pass that will let us in to see the new baby zebra, if you’d like to do that. And then, we shall do the spa. Someone will wash and style your hair -- your uncles are taking terrible care of your hair, darling, and it’s so lovely -- and get our nails painted and we shall both look very pretty. Does that sound like fun?”

Well, some of it did. She wasn’t sure about how getting her hair washed was supposed to be fun. But a baby zebra sounded cute, and Uncle Tony had been waving his arms about how he thought his mom was going to buy her lots of things, so maybe the toy store would be fun, too. She glanced at Uncle Bucky again, and he nodded at her. “Okay,” she agreed. And then, thinking of some of the things she’d heard about grandmothers -- even if Mrs. Stark didn’t look like a grandmother was supposed to look -- she said, “Can we get ice cream?”

“As much as you’d like, Isabella,” Mrs. Stark promised.

Uncle Bucky raised an eyebrow. “She does need to sleep, eventually,” he pointed out.

“Oh, hush, James. I have years of grandchild spoiling to catch up on. One afternoon shall hardly ruin her. She’s got seven years of catching up to do, as well, poor dear,” Mrs. Stark said. “Well, come along, then, and I shall introduce you to Happy. He’ll drive us around and carry heavy packages. It’s what he does.”

Uncle Tony was rolling his eyes and didn’t seem to care if his mom caught him at it. “I know it’s futile to ask, but I will anyway: try not to go _too_ overboard, okay, Mom? At least save some of it for tomorrow.”

Mrs. Stark patted his cheek. “You’re darling, Antonio, but--” She gave him a fierce little glare that looked like a kitten getting ready to pounce. “--do not _dare_ get in my way. Come, Isabella. The world is your oyster.”

Billie found her hand in Mrs. Stark’s and they were sweeping out the door before she entirely knew what was happening. Behind her, Uncle Tony said, “I _told_ you.”

***

An afternoon turned into an evening, which turned into Maria bringing back Bucky’s niece, half asleep and drowsing in Happy’s arms as the driver carried her upstairs somewhere near midnight.

“Mom,” Tony sighed as Bucky led Happy to Billie’s room. “She’s _seven_ , you can’t do this.”

“She’s _fine_ , Antonio,” Maria said. “She’s a child, children are ever so adaptable, you know. We had a lovely day. Be a darling and go fetch the parcels.” Maria had a purple canvas bag in one hand, flat-bottomed and domed. “Oh, I should bring Muffin to her, I nearly forgot.”

The bag gave a startled “mew.”

Tony stared. “Mom, you didn’t.”

Maria ignored him, placing the bag on the kitchen table and unzipping the front. She drew out a fat, fluffy, cream-colored kitten with eyes that were almost the same color as Billie’s. “Isn’t she lovely? Such a pretty baby, yes.” Maria continued to make baby-talk at the kitten, cuddling it, where it settled into the basket of her arms, purring like a miniature earthquake.

“ _Mom_. We already have two guinea pigs and a dog. You’re turning my house into a zoo.”

“You have a _part-time_ dog,” Maria corrected. “Lucky is well-behaved. It shall be fine, Antonio. You worry too much. The parcels, Antonio, go… shoo.” She petted the kitten. “He is such a worrier, don’t you agree, Muffin, yes, yes, we’ll get you back to your mistress right now, yes we will.”

“I don’t suppose you bought _food_ for the cat. Or a litter box,” Tony tried.

“Of course, we’re taking care of the baby, yes, we are,” Maria said to the kitten. “There’s a service, for this breed, Antonio. A delivery van will come around and bring you everything you need. There’s a package in the car for Muffin, if you would stop fussing. My goodness.” She walked away, leaving Tony gaping after her in the living room. “Here’s your mistress, Muffin, yes…”

Tony sighed and shuffled out to get the packages from the car. At least, he consoled himself as he went down the stairs, there couldn’t be more than could _fit_ in the car, so it wouldn’t _actually_ overflow the house. Yet.

Happy had left the trunk open. Tony peered in cautiously. Toys, of course. A doll with a better wardrobe than Tony had, these days. Oh, and nicer furniture, as well. A whole stack of books -- well, that was good, at least. Several unmarked bags that turned out to contain pet supplies, likewise nicer than anything Tony and Bucky owned. There was a breeder’s card stapled to one of the bags. Because of _course_ Maria had gotten Billie a pedigreed kitten.

And so much for waiting for Janet to do clothes shopping, as well, though that selection was _slightly_ smaller than Jan would have insisted on. A dress that was too nice for anywhere in all of Virginia Beach, never mind Billie’s usual rounds of Dockside, school, and Kendra’s house. And -- Tony pulled them out of the top of the bag right there in the parking lot, hoping he was hallucinating. But no: designer jeans with hand-embroidered cuffs and pockets. _Jesus Christ_.

He sighed and grabbed as much as he could carry, and lugged it all up the stairs.

Bucky was on the sofa with his face buried in his hands by the time Tony got back up.

“I’m very tired, darling,” Maria said, pecking Tony’s cheek as he came through the door, heedless of the packages and bags and boxes that Tony was carrying. “I shall go back to my hotel and get some sleep. I shall see you tomorrow, James, Antonio. Goodnight, darlings.” And Maria was gone, leaving a swirl of perfume behind, Happy in her wake.

“We have a kitten,” Bucky said, muffled from behind his hands, as soon as the door closed.

“Yes,” Tony agreed. “And a store’s worth of merchandise, including clothes no seven-year-old should be allowed to _look at_ , much less _wear_.” He dropped all the bags and sat on the couch next to his husband. “I hate to be the one to say I told you so, but.”

“And _ruby_ earrings,” Bucky said. “And not like little fake ones, or anything. ‘It’s her birthstone, James, every girl needs to have jewelry with her birthstone, don’t you think?’ Like that’s something I’ve ever thought about in my _life_.”

“My mother may have single-handedly revitalized the local economy,” Tony said. He patted Bucky on the back. “And she’ll be back tomorrow.”

Bucky groaned. “Do you think we can barricade the door?”

“She’ll just make Happy break it down, and I wouldn’t want to do that to him,” Tony said. “Maybe, if we’re lucky, we can redirect them to go do things that aren’t shopping.”

“Wish she’d at least _asked_ about the kitten,” Bucky complained. “How’m I supposed to tell Billie no, now? She’s all _attached_ to it.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s why Mom didn’t ask,” Tony pointed out. “She’s flighty, but she’s not _dumb_.”

Bucky groaned again, rubbing his face with both hands. “Well, at least it’s your _mother_. Setting weird spoiling grandmother expectations isn’t so bad. Mostly.”

“We can hope, anyway,” Tony said. “Come on, babe, let’s go to bed. We can figure out where to put all this crap in the morning.”

Bucky heaved a great sigh. “You know, back when you were still living ‘cross the way, I used to daydream about you takin’ over my life… This… this was _not_ what I had in mind.” He pulled Tony in for a kiss, starting out light to take the sting out of what he’d said, and then raging into a sudden fire that ended with Tony pinned to the sofa under Bucky’s weight and being kissed breathless.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Tony panted, sliding his arms around Bucky’s back, “but what was that for?”

“First off, because you are adorable and you’re so desperately not telling me how much you warned me and I didn’t listen, even though I can hear it coming straight out of your brain,” Bucky said. He nuzzled at Tony’s neck, flicking his tongue over the pulse point. “And secondly, because we sound horrifically, irredeemably married. Which is just… irresistible.”

Tony considered it. “We do, don’t we,” he mused. He tipped his head back to let Bucky even closer. “You know, Mom probably wore Billie right out. I bet, if we’re mostly quiet...” He slipped his hands up under Bucky’s shirt. “Hm?”

“That sounds like a very good idea,” Bucky said. “Let’s get that litter box set up first, though. I don’t want cat shit under Billie’s bed or something.” He groaned, rolled his hips against Tony’s. “That sounded even _more_ married, didn’t it? Ug. If you weren’t so perfect, I think I’d have to smack myself.”

“If you’re angling for me to do it for you,” Tony said, “I feel compelled to point out that a spanking is probably going to result in too much noise. But nice try.”

Bucky shuddered all over, tucked his face against Tony’s neck. “Oh my god,” he whispered, then nipped Tony’s earlobe. “You are _evil_.”

Tony laughed, as quietly as he could. “You like me that way.”

“I like you any way I can get you, babydoll,” Bucky said. “And how I’m gonna get you this time is on your back and _crying_ for it.” He finished that off with a slick, wet kiss. “Right after I finish this domestic crap.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

Clint and Bobbi had vanished again, this time for a cruise in Alaska, so Bucky and Tony had custody of the dog.  Lucky had not been even remotely interested in the guinea pigs, but instead had tried pathetically hard to make friends with Muffin. That particular friendship appeared ill-advised, as Muffin had turned into a giant, hissing puffball of doom and chased Lucky around the living room, spitting and yowling like a miniature demon.

“Poor boy,” Bucky said, ruffling the dog’s fur. “Maybe we should go into Ghent, you think, Tony? I would think, after that, if anyone deserved a treat, it’d be Lucky.”

Lucky perked up at the word “treat”, and Tony snorted. “You big faker,” Tony accused him affectionately. “But yeah, sure. We haven’t had the good pizza for a while. What d’you think, buttercup? You like pizza?”

Billie treated Tony to her patented _are you an idiot_ look. “Pizza’s okay,” she said. “Can I bring Muffin?”

“When you train the cat to a leash, we can talk about bringing her places,” Bucky said. “But most cats take to leashes like loaves of bread, so not today.”

Billie put both hands over her mouth to hide her giggle. Bucky wondered if she’d done that before Becca died, or if it was a habit she’d adopted after, like she was scared to be happy. He supposed they could get the kitten a leash and watch Billie fail miserably at cat-walking. Not that he hadn’t seen people walk cats before, but it wasn’t a common sort of thing at all. And in the meanwhile, he didn’t want to deal with Lucky and the cat in the same vehicle.

Lucky and Billie in the same vehicle was trouble enough. Bucky managed to chivvy her into shoes (why did kids hear “we’re going somewhere” and _not_ realize that meant they needed shoes?) while Tony leashed Lucky and texted Nat and Steve to open for lunch and they’d be back shortly after. They’d been doing more of that sort of thing lately; Bucky didn’t expect he’d ever be thrilled about it, but every time they came back to find everything running smoothly it made the knot in his chest ease a little.

It was close enough to lunch that by the time they got there, the patio was already filled, so they had to wait. Tony took Billie into Local Heroes, the comic book shop, while Bucky lingered outside with the dog.

“Bucky, my fair companion,” a voice boomed and Bucky found himself squashed into an enormous hug and a kiss that would have drowned a man unprepared for it.

“Get off, Thor,” Bucky said, shoving at Thor’s bulk. God, that man got bigger every time Bucky saw him. “I’m married now. _Really_. I’m pretty sure you were even there.”

Thor scoffed, but at least he put Bucky back down on the pavement before kneeling to pet the dog. “It is good to see you, as well,” Thor said very earnestly to the dog. Lucky was not the least bit particular about Thor-kisses and was happy to be allowed to lick someone all over their face. “So domestic, Bucky. Husband and dog, what will you have next, a white picket fence and a child?”

“I’ll skip the fence, but --” It really was too much of a good opportunity to pass up, especially as Tony was coming out of the shop behind Thor, Billie’s hand in his and a bag of comic books tucked up under his arm, “-- a kid seemed like a good plan. Tony just bought one.”

“She was on sale and everything,” Tony said, readily going along with it. He offered Thor a hand to shake before Thor could try to hug him.

Billie stared up -- and up, Thor really was very tall -- and then said, almost accusing, “You know my mom.”

Thor blinked. “Do I, small human?” He dropped to one knee and then hunkered over a bit to get on eye-level with Billie. “And who is your mother, that I know her?” Thor wasn’t much for girls. Just dick. Well, Bucky supposed, like attracted to like.

Billie tried out her suspicious look on Thor. “Rebecca Barnes,” she said. “ _I’m_ Billie.”

“Ah, indeed, I do know your mother,” Thor said. “We were comrades in Glee Club, back during our school days. Quite a lovely alto your mother has. Does she still sing?”

Billie’s face crumpled. “No,” she said, staring at the sidewalk. “She’s _dead_. Which is why I’m living here, now.”

Thor’s expression went through a kaleidoscope of emotions before settling on sympathy. “I am grieved to hear it,” he said.   

“About two months ago now,” Tony put in. “An accident at work.” Which was what they mostly said in public, because who the hell wanted to go into that explanation? “She saw a picture of you and Becca in a photo album. That’s good remembering, buttercup, nice job.”

“He grew his hair out,” Billie reported.

Bucky facepalmed. “Oh, _God_. I forgot you had a mullet.”

Thor raised an eyebrow. “I certainly did not,” he said, shaking out his admittedly magnificent mane of blond hair. “I have always been as stylish and perfect as I am now.”

“Let he who has never popped collars cast the first stone,” Bucky said.

“You are come for lunch?” Thor asked, then put an arm around Bucky’s waist, which he promptly squirmed out of. “I shall join you and drink a toast to your sister’s memory. A fine woman. She will be missed.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. Really? Really, Thor? “I am not letting a seven-year-old drink beer.”

“She can have a root beer,” Tony said, nudging him. “You have any stories about Becca that are fit for seven-year-old ears, Thor? I bet Billie would like to hear about her mom, some.”

“Many stories,” Thor announced. That was a little surprising, but Becca had been in regional Glee, which included the Virginia Beach schools where Thor had attended. “Two seasons, we sang together. There was talk, at one point, of forming a garage band, with my younger brother playing guitar and Peter Quill and his girlfriend, as well. We met frequently. Alas, as happens with the dreams of youth, we never amounted to much. I may even have a copy of our demo CD somewhere amongst my things.”

Bucky stared. What even the _hell_? He hadn’t known about that at all. Becca must have kept her lip zipped about it; he could only imagine what their father would have thought of the idea of Becca wasting time with a band instead of at the restaurant.

“Valkyrie,” Billie contributed, suddenly. “Mom said.” She untangled herself from Tony and hugged Thor. Bucky thought his eyeballs were going to fall out of his head. Billie was not a touchy child. His throat ached.

“Yeah,” he said, roughly. “Come on, let’s have pizza.”

“An adorable child,” Thor decided, and lifted Billie up onto his hip. “Here, friend Anthony, take a photograph.” He handed Tony his phone. “I should like to show her likeness to my brother.”

Tony took the phone and obediently lifted it for a picture. “Is Loki even going to care?” he asked. “He’s quite a bit younger than Becca, did he actually know her at all?”

“In such a manner as younger siblings are exposed to the friends of their elders,” Thor said. Bucky rolled his eyes, Thor was always such a pompous ass. “And… certainly they’d spoken only a few years back.” There was a strange gravity to Thor’s tone, but Bucky remembered what looked like an almost-argument between Loki and his sister at Tony’s and his wedding. He shrugged.

The waitress finally seated them on the patio, and they all crowded around the wrought iron table -- with Thor joining them, there was suddenly a lot less room at a four-top, but as Billie had decided she’d found her new, best friend and spent the entire meal in Thor’s lap, it could have been worse.

Thor did, in fact, have a number of stories about Becca, and Bucky found himself listening as intently as Billie. He’d regretted never really knowing his sister much at all, but never moreso at the moment, watching how delighted his niece was to hear the tales and know that Bucky didn’t have even that much to offer her.

***

There was something about one’s brother that often made one feel small and slight. Especially when said brother had inherited all of their father’s brawn and height and capacity for standing much too close inside one’s personal space.

Loki Odinson was dark-haired and slender, a throwback to ancestry several generations removed from the rest of his family. He often appeared a shadow among his brighter and more gregarious kin.

Thor was also, Loki had often lamented, frivolous, incapable of hard work, and somewhat lacking in intelligence. So, when Thor appeared in the doorway of Loki’s office above Valhalla’s famed bar, Loki wasn’t exactly happy to see him.

Especially as he’d just been scolded like an infant by their mother, who still wanted him to settle down and _make babies_. Both of their parents were eager for that particular circumstance, for someone to become heir to the Odinson empire of hotels and casinos and bars all up and down the east coast. And, as they had finally given over hoping that Thor would manage any such feat, it fell -- as usual -- to Loki to satisfy them. Loki had managed to horrify his mother by suggesting he was going to sell the entire empire in a massive estate sale, if the conglomerate came to him.

He didn’t mean it, of course. He loved running the bar, and was looking forward to being able to take over the casinos up in Jersey. He had such plans for them.

“What is it you want, Thor?” Loki said, not looking up from his computer.

“I have news, brother,” Thor said. “I wish to have your attention, a moment.”

“Not right this moment,” Loki said. “I’m occupied, as you can see.”

“Do I ask so much of you, that you cannot spare me a few minutes?”

Loki heaved a sigh and reluctantly looked up. He wished it wouldn’t look so weak to stand. Thor had a tendency to give him a pain in the neck, in more ways than one.

“I met someone today,” Thor said. He pulled out his phone and started tapping through it.

“Oh, did you now?” Well, that wasn’t news, at all. His brother was very friendly, and both women and men tended to go out of their way to make his acquaintance. The season hadn’t quite spun up yet, but there were enough earlybirds in town to make for a wider circle of potential friends. “So, you had a nice fuck is what I understand?”

“Loki,” Thor chided him.

“What? You’re well known for your conquests,” Loki said.

Thor put the phone on Loki’s desk and pushed it across the surface. “Rebecca Barnes has passed on,” he said, brutal and blunt.

Loki almost choked. His breath wavered in and out of his lungs. _Becca._

“What? How?” She wasn’t that much older than Thor, just barely forty, he thought.

“I did not get the details from her brother,” Thor said. “But I met her daughter. She’s _seven_. And I recall --”

“I regret, never more so than in this moment, _ever_ speaking to you about her,” Loki said. He closed his eyes for a long pause, then picked up Thor’s phone. Opened his eyes, looked at the picture. A pair of brilliant green eyes peered out of the photograph, surrounded by a cloud of thick, black hair. She had Becca’s well defined cheekbones, even under the child’s roundness of her face and a mouth that was the same stubborn line. But other than that… a long, lean nose and sharp jawline.

“Tell me you had some modicum of sense and did not mention this to Barnes,” Loki said. Dear god, what was he going to do?

Becca had tried to speak with him, eighteen months ago, or so, and he’d still been angry with her, had cut her off, had mocked what he saw as a pathetic attempt to leverage money from him. Was _this_ what she had been trying to tell him?

“I did not,” Thor said.

“Thank you, for that,” Loki said. He used Thor’s phone to text himself the photograph. “Please continue to keep it to yourself, and leave now. I need to think.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We headcanon that when they do get a leash for Muffin, she trains to it with absolutely no effort at all.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings** on this chapter for attempted assault and rape (unsuccessful), and also for some (unrelated) dubious parenting choices. No one is having a good day, here. Please read carefully and with regard for your own mental health. Feel free to contact one of the authors if you’d like a summary of events to help make your decision.

There were days when Bucky felt like a fraud; between the new computer system and the work that Tony had done to get the books and inventory processes down to a neat science, there really wasn’t as much work to do that required Bucky’s _personal_ attention. The long hours Bucky used to spend hunched over the ancient computer were whittled down to almost nothing.

Bucky still had a lot of administrative work, especially customer management. There was always someone who wanted to _talk to the owner_. Designing the seasonal menus and negotiating contracts with suppliers. Oddly, he found himself enjoying the time in his office these days.

It was somewhat past the lackadaisical lunch hour; Memorial Day itself had been hectic, but lunch the rest of the week tended to be slow, and Tony was off with Billie for an eye doctor appointment.

There was nothing much that needed to be done, since he’d finished off the ordering, and he was considering taking an hour or so to go for a swim. He spun around lazily in his chair and ended up facing the wall when a hand came down on his shoulder, warm and affectionate, turning him back around.

He leaned back to ask why Tony was back early, and nearly shouted in panic.

“Alex!”

Alexander Pierce grinned down at him. “Hello, James,” he said. He put his other hand down on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky’s heart was beating so fast it was a wonder he could breathe, and he felt pinned down, trapped in the chair. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, darling?”

***

It was a nice day, warm but not sweltering, and Billie was in high spirits. She was rattling off some story about a project at school that sounded like it involved way more glue and glitter than anyone should allow a roomful of seven-year-olds to have access to. Ms. Potts was a brave soul. Tony was batting around the idea of inviting her to a Game Night, once school was out and there wasn’t a conflict of interest anymore. Bucky had dumped “dealing with the school stuff” on Tony’s shoulders without an ounce of regret or shame and, well, it wasn’t like Tony _minded_. Bucky pitched in on homework, and Tony had always been better at navigating bureaucracies.

“--and Johnny said he was going to make his into a monster truck, but Ms. Potts said that wasn’t exactly ‘ _viro’mentally friendly_ and we were s’posed to be doing posters for the recycling program and--”

Bucky’s truck was leading to the left a little; Tony needed to check the tire pressure and maybe haul it in for an alignment.

“--dumped all the purple glitter right in his hair!”

Oh, that was a thing that needed a response. “Wow. What did he do?”

Tony was too busy watching street signs to pay close attention to the follies of second grade -- why, _why_ couldn’t this place actually have neat grid streets like New York? (He knew why; it had to do with the shape of the multiple rivers and deltas that meandered through on their way to the ocean, but it still annoyed the hell out of him.)

Okay there was the street the eye doctor was on... Now how the hell did he get over there? His navigation app was straight-up lying to him and telling him to drive across the median. UG. Tony drove down to the next light, checked the traffic, and made a U-turn that may or may not have been entirely legal. He no longer cared if a cop spotted him; it would be worth the damn moving violation to get where he was going.

But there weren’t any police nearby and no one even honked at him. Good. He found the building and a nearby parking space. “Okay, buttercup, let’s go.”

She took his hand willingly enough, but dragged her feet. “Uncle Tony, there’s a 7-11!”

Tony didn’t even look. There was a convenience store on every third corner. “Uh-huh. Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

“I want a Slurpee!”

“Maybe after your appointment, if you’re good.”

“But I want it now!”

“Billie, come on, you know how this works. Let’s go.”

She yanked her hand free and crossed her arms. “No!”

***

“It’s good to see you again,” Alex said. He lightly spun Bucky’s chair around and tipped it back until Bucky literally _was_ trapped in the chair, his feet off the floor and Alex leaning over him.

Alex was still too damn familiar in a way he really shouldn’t be anymore. His cologne was the same brand he’d been using for as long as Bucky had known him.

The scent yanked at Bucky, tendrils of memory that curled around his spine. There had been a time when just the smell of it had been enough to get Bucky hard and wanting.

“Alex,” Bucky said, and his throat closed a little, making it harder to talk. “What… how’d you get back here?”

“Just walked on back,” Alex said. “It wasn’t very busy out on the floor. And I’ve missed our little chats.”

Bucky hadn’t. The first year Tony had worked Dockside, Alex had probably assumed that, much like his own “assistants” and “proteges,” Tony was a temporary fling and everything would go back to normal. That second year, Tony had been waiting tables by that point. Alex and his pretty boy flavor of the year had pulled some faux outrage and Bucky had ended up comping them the meal just to get them to shut up and leave.

And last year, last year had been _lovely_. Bucky’d been able to introduce Tony as his husband and the shock on Alex’s face had almost -- _almost_ \-- made all the heartache worth it.

“You know, you probably shouldn’t be back here,” Bucky said, trying to sound stern and matter of fact and failing utterly. Alex had always been able to do that; a few sentences and Bucky was reduced to a desperate seventeen-year-old idiot. “We can chat in the dining room, if you--”

Alex put a hand back on Bucky’s shoulder and then his thumb came up to stroke the side of his neck. Bucky tried to contain a shiver, but it snuck out anyway, and Alex’s brilliant blue eyes darkened a little as he noticed it. _Fuck_. “I thought it best we were uninterrupted,” Alex said. “Somewhere private. And cozy. I’ve missed you, darling.”

_You could have had me any time you wanted, for years_. And Alex had, really. For _years_. “You know I’m married, right,” Bucky said. Jesus, that was the second time he’d said that in the last two weeks. It was starting to sound like an excuse when the truth was vastly different. _I don’t want you_.

“I’m not,” Alex said with a shrug.

“What?” Why did Bucky even ask that, it’s not like it mattered anymore.

“Renata left me, about a year ago,” Alex said. He was still stroking the side of Bucky’s neck, his thumb pressing over the pulse point. He’d always done that; Alex had been a dominating son of a bitch and breath-play had been one of his favorite things.

The touch was getting to Bucky; his heart was pounding in his chest, blood rushing in his veins. _I don’t want you._

Someone should probably tell that to his body, which was having a Pavlovian response to the smell of Alex’s cologne and the pressure of a hand on his throat.

“Well, I’m sure your latest assistant can help you forget about that,” Bucky suggested, ashamed of how his voice came out, faint and breathy.

“I don’t have one,” Alex said. Those blue eyes were so fucking gorgeous. “You know what they say, James… You really don’t know what you had until it’s gone. I’ve missed you, darling.”

***

“Billie,” Tony said. “I need you to stop this, and come in to see the doctor, now.”

“I don’t _want to_ and you _can’t make me_!”

Damn it, it did not help that Tony honestly wasn’t sure if he _could_ make Billie do anything. Not and make it stick. Tony wasn’t even related to her, except through marriage; Bucky was her guardian of record, and Tony was just... the husband. The one people looked askance at when the three of them were out together. It didn’t really bother him, what people thought, but that echo of his own feelings... that was painful.

And of _course_ she had decided to test Tony’s limits when Bucky wasn’t here to back him up. Of _course_ she had. _Damn_ it.

“Isabelle Barnes,” he said firmly, inwardly praying. “We are _not_ doing this right now.” He pointed at the door to the eye doctor’s building. “Get in there. Right now.”

She was practically swelling with rage, her face turning red and blotchy. “ _I hate you!_ ” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “ _I wish you would just die!_ ”

An older woman coming out of the doctor’s building paused, leaning hard on the rail. Tony felt her stare on the back of his neck like a brand.

_Just get her the damned Slurpee_ , the voice in the back of his head said. _It’s not worth this._

_And if I do that_ , he reminded himself, _she’s never going to do a thing I say again without fighting me tooth and nail or having to be bribed_. He didn’t know a lot about being a parent, but he’d seen enough families come through Dockside to have some idea of what giving in to a tantrum got you.

“Well, it looks like you’re out of wishes with your genie,” he snarked back. Maybe if he was a real parent, he’d know the right thing to say. “Are you going to calm down and come let the doctor look at your eyes, or do I have to carry you in there?” Shit, why did he _say_ that? Now he was going to have to make good on the threat.

***

“You _missed_ me?” Bucky was incredulous and if he hadn’t been both half-turned on and half-terrified, he might actually have laughed. His brain ran through every possible iteration and inflection of those three words. _Alex_ missed him. Alex _missed_ him. Alex missed _him_. None of them made any sense at all. Didn’t fit with his worldview in the slightest.

“Can you doubt it?” Alex said, soft, leaning closer and Bucky wished to hell he wasn’t tipped back like he was in a goddamn dentist’s chair. “You were always the best thing in my life, I just couldn’t see it. Constant as the north star.”

“I was a kid!” Bucky burst out. “I was a kid with a crush.” It wasn’t real, it had never been real, and it had taken Bucky _years_ to realize it.

“No,” Alex said, and somehow he was kissing close now. “You were _loyal_. You were a gift and I needed you. I need you _now_.”

Well, thank Christ he hadn’t said _love_.

There were two major problems with shoving Alex away. The first was a simple matter of leverage: Alex had it and he didn’t.

The other was a more complicated matter of leverage. Alex had political power and clout. And Bucky was an ex-convict. There was no way in hell that anyone would believe that Senator Alexander Pierce would proposition him, try to -- whatever the hell it was that Alex was doing, because it wasn’t even illegal. Bucky had yet to tell him no.

“Alex, I --”

“Shhhh,” Alex said, hand shifting slightly until he was gripping Bucky’s throat, thumb forcing his head up and back. “I won’t tell on you. He never has to know. Just let it happen.”

***

Tony’s heart was pounding. He could practically _see_ the gears turning in Billie’s head as she tried to decide whether to take the risk. He tried to look like someone who would follow through on his threats. Jesus, who’d thought it was a good idea to leave him in charge of a child?

How the hell had it gone sideways so fast? It was supposed to be a simple errand.

Billie tensed and bolted, turning and running away down the sidewalk before Tony could even get out a curse.

He pounded after her, his longer legs making up the lost distance at a good rate. “Damn it, Billie!” he snapped, his own frustration boiling over into anger. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He caught up and snagged her around the waist, pulling her off her feet.

She caught him in the face with a flying elbow, sending lights flashing across his vision. “ _Ow, fuck!_ ”

“ _Put me down!_ ” She was flailing and kicking, and how the hell was someone who weighed half what he did so goddamned _strong_?

Tony had to drop onto the sidewalk and _wrestle_ her into submission, and the screaming kept going long after he got her limbs pinned.

Jesus _fuck_ , any second a cop was going to come over to see if he was trying to kidnap her or something, what the _hell_. Not to mention the way those repeated _I hate you_ s felt like an ice pick to the chest, every one of them.

“I know, I know, all right!” he growled. “You hate me, I get it! I’m not your dad, or your mom, or even your real uncle. I’m just some guy and you don’t give a shit about me, you don’t want anything to do with me, I _get it_. Just _stop!_ ” Fuck, he was as half-gone as she was, yelling in the middle of the damn sidewalk at a kid half his size, what the hell was wrong with _both_ of them.

His breath was whistling out of his lungs, each drag in a fight, his whole chest a knot of pain and anger and worthlessness.

He closed his eyes, screwed them tight shut and forced himself to take one real breath, and then another, and when he opened them again Billie was staring at him. Before he could say anything, she burst into tears.

***

The weirdest thing, Bucky would have to say, was how his brain just checked out. It took one look at the entire messed up fucking situation and said, “Hell with this, pal, I’m going to fucking Mars, because Tahiti isn’t far enough.”

He literally could not move, could barely breathe. The fact that his vision was graying out at the edges because of Alex’s hold on his throat probably didn’t help anything. He had half an erection that was getting a little more insistent because his body associated that dreamy feel of partial oxygen deprivation with _sex_. He’d never told Tony that, never told _anybody_ that.

He had no idea what he was going to do, and some primitive, selfish part of him was pleading with him to just go ahead and let it happen. Another part, louder, was outraged, furious, and fucking terrified all at the same time.

After all this time, Alexander fucking Pierce was admitting to needing Bucky?

_It's a power trip. It's not_ you, _dammit_.

It had absolutely zero to do with James Barnes and everything to do with Alex’s fucking ego.

“I've always loved you, James,” Alex whispered and then his mouth came down on Bucky’s.

Bucky twisted his face away, planted both hands in the middle of Alex's chest and _shoved_.

The chair rolled a little, but Alex staggered back a step and that was enough. Bucky practically leaped to his feet, which put him too close to Alex, but he couldn't stand to be _under_ the man any more.

“My name is _Bucky_ ,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Get out of my office.”

“You _want_ it,” Alex said, but his tone was more pleading than accusatory.

“You know,” Bucky said, “I really don't.”

***

They were still sitting on the sidewalk but at least Billie was clinging to Tony now and not fighting frantically to get away. Much less likely that someone would call the cops on him now. He patted her back and rocked, and didn’t try to talk, because she wasn’t going to be able to really hear him or respond to anything until she stopped, anyway.

When the sobbing finally subsided into miserable hiccupping, Tony took a breath. “Feeling a little calmer now?”

Billie nodded.

“That’s good. I know... I know things are hard, right now,” he said, picking his way through the words like a minefield. “They’re probably going to keep being hard for a while, until we get to know you better, and you get to know us. I’m sorry about that. I wish there was an easier way to do that.”

She didn’t respond to that, but the hiccups were slowing down a little as she listened.

“And maybe... Maybe you think that Bucky’s the one who counts, really, because he’s your mom’s brother. So since your mom can’t take care of you anymore, he’s the only one who can tell you what to do. But I’m married to Bucky. I love him a lot, and he’s my family. So _his_ family, that’s _my_ family. That means you belong to both of us. And I’m not... I’ve never taken care of kids before, did you know that? I’ve never even been a babysitter. So I’m probably messing up. I worry about that sometimes, that I’m doing it wrong. But I’m trying.”

Billie sniffled, and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “‘Cause a’ Uncle Bucky,” she said.

“A little,” Tony admitted. “But also because of you. You’re a pretty cool kid when you’re not being a hellspawn, you know.”

She didn’t quite laugh, but her little frame shook, just a bit.

“But it does mean that when I say no, I mean it,” Tony said. “And screaming about it isn’t going to change that, buttercup. I’d really rather not go through this again, but I will if we have to.”

She sniffed. “Howcome you call me that?”

“What, buttercup?” Tony shrugged. “Buttercups are small and pretty, and if you touch them, they have this pollen that gets all over your hands, really, they’re just a terrible mess...”

She giggled a little, and it felt like a victory.

“I mean, they rub off on you, and it tells you something about yourself,” Tony said. He rubbed the top of her head and pretended to look surprised at his hand.  “Okay, come on, we’re late for the doctor, now.”

She shrank down a little. “I don’t wanna go,” she said, small and miserable.

“I can see that. Can you tell me why not?”

She shook her head. “Just don’t.”

Tony sighed, and stood up. He brushed off his jeans and then picked her up, even if she was a little too big for it, limbs dangling awkward and gangly. “Ms. Potts said you were having trouble reading the board at school. We need you to be able to see,” he said. “This is what we have to do for that. I’ll stay with you the whole time, okay?”

“Do I really hafta?”

“You really have to,” Tony said. “The choices you get are whether you want me to stay with you, and if they say you need glasses, you can pick them out.”

She considered that. “Michael has glasses. They have Superman on the thingy.” She pointed at the side of her face.

“I don’t know if this place has Superman glasses,” Tony said, “but you can look around while I’m doing boring paperwork, okay?”

She tucked her face against his neck and clung tighter, and Tony wanted to hold her, just like that, forever, to protect her from whatever unnameable fear menaced. “‘Kay,” she whispered.

“Good girl.” Tony hugged her, and headed back up the sidewalk toward the doctor’s office.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Bucky was not drunk.

Or at least, not as much as he wanted to be. He’d gotten out a bottle of vodka, a fresh one, and unscrewed the cap. Poured a shot. Stared at it for a while.

Considered actually just drinking straight from the bottle. He hadn’t done that in a long while, but it would get the job done.

Didn’t.

It boiled down to one simple fact; he was somebody’s parent now and having Billie walk in that door and see him falling down shitfaced wasn’t going to be good for _her_. He had a responsibility to someone else, someone who couldn’t be responsible for themselves.

He drank the one shot.

Carefully twisted the lid back on the bottle. Put it back under the sink.

Sat down on the sofa and just stared at the wall.

Discovered a few minutes later that he’d acquired a kitten in his lap and a dog with his chin on Bucky’s thigh. Huh.

A little while later, he heard the truck pulling into the garage, and then feet on the stairs. Lucky trotted over to the door to greet them, though the kitten kept purring under his hand.

“Hey, boy,” Tony said to Lucky, and his tone was oddly subdued.

Billie, too, was quieter than usual. “Hi, Uncle Bucky. C’n I have Muffin?”

It took him a few minutes to detach the kitten; he could swear that kittens were part Velcro, really. “One fuzzball,” he said, handing over the kitten, who had gained ninety pounds, it seemed like, in the effort of moving her. Kittens had a weird effect on gravity like that, Bucky had noticed. “So, what was the verdict?” He glanced up at Tony and then all thoughts of glasses went out of his head. “What… the hell happened to your face, baby?”

Tony grimaced and touched the bruise on the side of his face. “An accident,” he said. Billie seemed to shrink in on herself and held the kitten closer. Tony waved in her direction. “She clipped me. Not on purpose.” Her eyes were flicking from Tony to Bucky and back, so there was definitely more to it than that.

Bucky managed a ghost of a smile. “Like old times, hey, Big City? Need an ice pack on that?”

Tony actually laughed a little. “Nah, they took care of me at the doctor’s while they were checking her over. And the verdict is glasses. They’re ordered; they’ll call us in a few days when they’re ready.”

Bucky took a deep breath, felt the way it shivered into his lungs. “I’m gonna have a smoke. Come sit with me for a bit, Tony? You can watch some tv or something if you want, kiddo.”

Tony’s eyebrows went up, but he just nodded. “Of course.” He ruffled Billie’s hair gently, and hung the keys to Bucky’s truck on their hook by the door while Bucky got his smokes.

Bucky barely got out the door before he had the butt in his mouth and flicked his lighter, but at least Tony had closed the door before he got smoke-smell in the house. He took another drag, moved down the balcony all the way to the far end, near their bedroom, before leaning against the wall. He didn’t have much longer; it was his shift as cook tonight, and the dinner rush would start up in another hour or so.

“Take it I’m not the only one who’s had a bad day,” he finally managed.

Tony huffed. “She had one of her tantrums and I wasn’t... ready to deal with it. What the _hell_ happened to your throat, honey?”

 _Shit_. Bucky put his hand to his neck. Alex had bruised him. Jesus wept. “It’s Memorial Day week,” he said, slow. “I’ll give you one guess who’s in town.”

“He didn’t,” Tony growled. He came in close and gently tipped Bucky’s chin up, looking at Bucky’s throat without quite touching. “That son of a bitch. I’ll call the cops on his ass.”

“ _No_. You won’t,” Bucky said. He couldn’t quite look at his husband. “It… it’s not what you’re thinking. I wish it was.”

Tony hesitated, stepped back, just a little, to look at Bucky’s face. “What is it, then?”

“He didn’t…” That step back hurt, _god_ , he was going to… ruin everything because he’d been too stupid to push Alex away the second Alex had laid a hand on him. “He didn’t do it to _hurt_. We… Jesus, I’m _sorry_. When he used to. He did this. A lot.” Bucky made a gesture with his hand, trying to indicate the way Alex used to hold him down when they fucked. “He… he was trying to seduce me.”

Tony’s eyes widened and then closed. “I’m going to assume,” he said, his voice trembling, “that he failed. And I’m going to have him arrested for assault.”

“Tony,” Bucky said, “Tony, honey, I would… I would _never_ do that. I don’t want him. Please, you have to believe that.” He was shaking so hard it was a wonder he didn’t drop his cigarette.

Tony’s eyes flew open again, shocked. “Of course you wouldn’t,” he said. “Baby, I didn’t mean it like--” His hands were on Bucky’s face, cupping it, drawing Bucky in for a soft kiss. “I know you don’t want him anymore. I know.” He rested his forehead against Bucky’s. “But god, I’m so fucking pissed at him now, and I honestly didn’t think I could get any madder at him than I was two years ago.”

Bucky wiped his cheek absently. _Christ_ , he was turning into a fucking watering pot. “We can’t do anything about it and you know it.” Bucky shivered again, rage and fear and dread still all tangled up in his gut. “No witnesses. Who the fuck is going to believe me? I’ve got a goddamn arrest record, Tony. No one’s going to believe that Senator Pierce pinned me in my fucking desk chair and assaulted me, that’s not going to happen and you know that.”

He finished off his smoke and pulled a second one out of the pack.

Tony growled under his breath, and dropped his head to Bucky’s shoulder. “Jesus, sweetheart,” he said, hoarse. “You’re telling me that asshat came into our place and tried to rape you and I can’t _do anything_ about it?”

It was on the tip of Bucky’s tongue to protest the word choice; and then he touched his throat again. He’d been getting gray around the edges… _Shit_. “That’s what I’m telling you,” Bucky said. He lit the second smoke and inhaled. “No one believed me the first time, no one will believe it now. And, Tony, baby, I cannot go back to jail. Not ever, _ever_ again.”

“I know,” Tony grated. He took a few shuddery breaths. “Are you-- Do I need to take you to the doctor?”

“Jesus, no. I’m… it didn’t. He didn’t. This is the worst of it,” he said, touching his neck. “Used to have worse than that when I _wanted_ to be having sex with him. I made a fashion statement every year for a while, turtlenecks in June.” He rolled his eyes. God, he’d been so stupid.

Tony let out another breath, slower. “You’re lucky I love you. If I ever told Jan that, she’d destroy you.”

Bucky snorted. “Between her and havin’ Ma find out what I’d been up to? I’d take Jan, every day and twice on Sunday. My ma would have killed me. And then probably killed Pierce while she was at it. I swear, I do not know what I was thinkin’. Who the fuck wants a seventeen year old kid when they’re thirty-five?”

“Assholes like him, apparently. Not your fault. You didn’t realize you were waiting for me.”

“Always waiting for you, babydoll,” Bucky said, pulling him in. Tony was real and solid and warm, and Bucky needed him, just to be there. “Thank you.”

Tony’s arms slid around him and held him tight, a little tighter than usual. “You’re welcome, whatever it is I did.”

“You believe me,” Bucky said. He hadn’t realized how important that was until it had happened; that Tony could very easily have walked away, believed whatever narrative it was that Pierce would have spun. He shuddered. Everyone had believed Rumlow. Well, not _Steve_. But everyone else. Even his father had… Bucky shut that thought off because it didn’t do him any good to dwell on it.

“Baby, if I couldn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have married you.” Tony tipped his head up for a kiss.

Bucky kissed him, long and slow and willing, wanting the taste of Pierce, the sour flavor of fear out of his mouth. He wasn’t going to find it in the vodka, or even the cigarettes. Relief flooded him. Tony trusted him. Believed in him. It was going to be okay. “And you’re going to buy me a new desk chair, because I don’t think I can ever sit in that thing again.”

“Aw, you know how much I love it when you let me throw money at a problem. You sure you want to stop at just the chair? We can redo the whole office.”

“I’ll let you know,” Bucky said. “But I don’t ever want to be tipped backward like that again. It was…” Bucky shuddered. “Yeah, right. Never talking about this again.”

Tony hugged him tight again. “Okay. God, today has sucked.”

“And it’s not even over yet,” Bucky pointed out. “Like, how is that even fair? Gotta go to work, now. After the dinner rush, though, you an’ me and Nat and Steve are going to go grab late night ice cream. We’ll even bring back a to-go for Billie and she can have it tomorrow.”

Tony leaned back to look at him. “Yeah? You think she’ll be okay if we go out?”

“Riri can stay in the livingroom and mooch off our cable tv for a while,” Bucky suggested. “I know she hasn’t seen the last season of  _Penny Dreadful_ , because DeeDee would have a conniption fit.”

“Hey, look at you, planning ahead like a professional parent,” Tony teased. “You’ll have this whole ‘dad’ thing down in no time.”

“We’ll figure it out, babydoll.” He slung an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “You an’ me.”

***

Loki was nervous. He didn’t particularly like the sensation. He’d worked hard over the last several years to be more confident in his decision-making. Taking his share (and Thor’s, too, since Thor had no interest in the family business) of work and making a success of it had bolstered his ego quite a bit.

He’d always acted confident; he had quite the reputation for being an egotistical maniac -- crazy as a bag of cats, he’d been called, more than once -- even before he had the skills and achievements to back it up.

The BMW’s engine ticked slowly. The car’s interior heated; without the motor turning, the air conditioning was not keeping up with the early-June heat. He gathered up the paperwork, running his fingers over the pages a few times.

He’d almost asked Thor to come with him -- he was, in fact, truly desperate for some support -- but Thor had a bad habit of taking nothing seriously.

Loki got out of his car; he didn’t want to be sweating too hard when he spoke with Barnes. That wouldn’t look good at all. He glanced up at the restaurant with a faint smile. The building had been undergoing quite a bit of slow, careful renovation over the past two years. The place looked reputable, these days. But surely, Barnes did not want this burden.

He took a few deep breaths and went inside.

He’d never actually been inside before; Dockside was more than ten miles from his home and there were burger places quite a bit closer, if he wanted one. Usually he didn’t. A red-headed woman came up to him.

“Table for one, sugar?”

“No, thank you,” Loki said. “I was wondering if I might have a word with Mr. Barnes.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll ask.” She bounced off, a little more wiggle in her walk than Loki thought was strictly necessary. He didn’t bother to watch for very long. The wall of pictures on the far end of the dining room captured his attention and he found himself looking for a familiar face among the clippings and articles and -- there she was.

Loki traced his fingers over the picture of Becca Barnes, standing with her mother at her college graduation. She’d gone on to become a registered nurse.

“Mr. Odinson,” Barnes said, quietly, from behind him. “I wouldn’t have expected to see you here. I know you remember my husband, Tony.”

“Of course,” Loki said. He gave Stark a quick nod. “Probably best to speak with both of you at once, really. If there’s…” The restaurant wasn’t terribly crowded, but there were a few customers scattered around the room. “Somewhere private, perhaps. I need a word with you on a personal matter.”

Stark’s eyebrows went up, as well they might. They had long since concluded the business transactions for their use of the Valhalla for their wedding, and they would not be aware of his new business. “The office be okay?”

“Certainly,” Loki said. “This should not take terribly much of your time.”

Barnes’ office had that new paint smell and much of the furniture appeared to be recently acquired. Sitting behind the desk was the girl, her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth as she rather diligently applied herself to coloring in a worksheet. From his position, Loki thought it was one of those color-by-numbers sheets. “Well, hello there,” he said.

“This is our niece, Billie,” Stark said. “Billie, say hello to Mr. Odinson. He’s Mr. Thor’s brother.”

The girl looked up, those green eyes searching his face, slightly magnified by the glasses perched on her nose. “Hi! Is Thor with you? I like Thor.”

Loki sighed inwardly. Of _course_ she did. Everyone liked Thor. “Alas, he could not accompany me today,” he said. “It is my very great pleasure to meet you, Miss Barnes. I feel I have been waiting quite some time for the honor.”

“Ooookay,” Stark said under his breath. “We need to talk grownup talk, buttercup. Go see if Steve’s got your dinner ready to go yet, okay? You can eat on the porch.”

Billie glared at everyone. “How old do I gotta be b’fore you c’n talk about me in front of _me_?”

 _Oh, my, my, my_. Loki stuck his tongue out to wet his upper lip before giving the child a rather toothy smile. “Aren’t you the clever girl? I dare say it will be some years yet, but as soon as you are allowed access to the secrets of adulthood, you’ll find they hold little pleasure. Run along, princess. We’ll talk later.”

Billie grumbled, but put her worksheet in a drawer that had apparently been set aside for her use -- though Loki certainly would not have put it past Barnes to complete his forms in crayon -- and obediently skipped out into the kitchen.

“This must be quite the adjustment for you both,” Loki said. “Or, indeed, all three of you.”

“Can we skip the fancy speech and you tell me what you want, Odinson?” Barnes shoved one hand through his hair, slicking it away from his face.

“Very well, I shall get straight to the point,” Loki said. He handed Barnes the envelope. “This is a court order to acquire a DNA test from Miss Barnes.”

“ _What?_ ” Barnes was outraged, but Stark’s eyes were narrow. “The funeral,” he said softly.

Well, it was often difficult to get anything past Stark. The man was a mathematical genius, even if almost no one knew it. But Loki had worked with Stark for the venue and catering of the wedding and seen firsthand how easily and quickly Stark could work long columns of figures in his head. “I believe so, yes,” Loki said, softly.

“What?” Barnes repeated. “I’m missin’ something.”

“Honey, _look_ at him,” Stark said, not unsympathetically. “And the last time Becca was in town, before the wedding, was your mother’s funeral. The timing... works out.”

“It does, indeed,” Loki said. “I also believe Becca attempted to tell me, at your wedding, but… certain misunderstandings prevented it.” He held up a hand to Stark. “I do not blame you. We were arguing, and she might not have spoken, even then. But… the fact remains that it is quite likely that Rebecca Barnes’ daughter is also my daughter.”

Barnes took a step backward and nearly fell into his chair. “Oh my _god_.”

Stark grunted. “Court-ordered paternity test, okay. Can’t fight that. Do you want to tell me what your end game is? Because we were appointed guardians in Becca’s will.”

“I’m not a cretin, Mr. Stark, no matter what my brother may say of me,” Loki said. “I did not _know_. She never told me. But if the child is my daughter, then I am responsible for her, and I will do my duty, as far as it extends.”

“Billie,” Barnes said. “Her name’s Billie.”

Of course Becca, who had a brother named _Bucky_ , of all things, would name their child something outlandish. “Forgive me,” Loki said. “This is still very new information for me. You can imagine how I feel. Becca… well.” He didn’t quite know how to finish that. He _certainly_ was not going to confess to Becca’s brother that he’d nursed a terrible crush on her since he had been thirteen years old.

“You’re not really going to insist on a custody fight, are you?” Stark asked. “She’s only just begun to recover from one upheaval and move; another would be traumatic at best. And maybe I’m wrong, but from what I’ve heard, you’re not exactly... a family sort of man.”

Barnes blinked. “Custody fight?” He turned to Stark, concern on his face. “He can’t… he can’t do that, can he?”

“It is all rather moot, if the test comes back negative,” Loki felt compelled to point out. “And I resent the implication that I would be less fit to parent my own child than either of you.”

Stark held up his hands. “I didn’t say that. We were pretty unprepared at the outset, too. I’m just saying... is this really what you want?”

He gave in to uncertainty. “I don’t _know_ , Stark, damn it. Two weeks ago, my oaf of a brother comes into my office to explain in no uncertain terms that he is convinced he has just met my daughter. I have to be told of this in such a manner? It is deplorable and should never have happened.” Loki balled his fists up. “I asked her to stay. I didn’t even know she was pregnant -- I doubt she even knew -- and I asked Becca to stay with me, then. I wanted… I wanted her to.” He shuddered. The things she had said to him, when he’d asked; God, he’d give quite a lot to unhear them.

“Ow,” Barnes said. When Loki whirled on him, furious, Barnes just shrugged. “Becca pretty much hated it here. It didn’t help that all Dad wanted was for her to get married, settle down -- preferably close by -- and start making babies. I don’t think there’s any possible thing you could have said to her that would piss her off more.”

Stark shrugged in agreement. “Yeah. If you’d offered to go with her, maybe... but if she’d wanted that, she might’ve brought it up. She wasn’t exactly the shy and retiring type, from what I saw.” He sighed. “Look, we’ll get the test, since you went to all the trouble of obtaining a court order, and we’ll see what happens from there. But let me just say -- let’s sit down and talk before you go back to the court with the results. We’ll fight it, if we have to, but we’d rather not have to.”

 _Yes, thank you, Stark, by all means, remind me of my missteps._ “I wish to know the truth, before any decisions are made,” Loki said. “My condolences, however belated they may be. I will mourn the loss.”

“Thank you,” Barnes said, quietly. “I appreciate that.”

“Let me walk you out,” Stark said, gesturing.

Loki nodded. He followed Stark to the door, then stopped on the porch to have another long look at Billie. She was sitting on one of the barstools, a half-eaten burger in front of her. She kicked her legs against the wooden rail that wrapped the deck, hands under her chin as she stared out at the ocean.

In profile, with somewhat shorter hair, she could have been him, at age seven. The blood test was unnecessary, except in legal matters. That was his daughter. An unexpected pain gripped his chest, squeezing. “Good night, princess,” he called, waving to her. They would have plenty of time to get to know each other. Later.

Loki got in his car and drove back to the beach.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: After working with Tony for the catering of the Barnes-Stark wedding a couple of years earlier, Loki put Tony on the watchlist for the casinos that his family owns.


	15. Chapter 15

Bucky gave it about ten more minutes before Tony was going to come back into the bedroom to chide him that they were going to be late and that he looked fine, and what the hell was he worried about anyway?

With Jan on video chat to provide her expert opinion, he’d managed, after peeling off and tugging on at least five of his nicest pairs of jeans (no slacks, that’d be _trying too hard_ ) to select a nice, low-key, and not too tight pair of jeans. Somewhere in the last few years, he’d gotten used to changing in front of Jan, which was good, since it meant this was going a lot faster than it would have otherwise.

“So,” he held up one set of tops, a v-necked pewter stretch-cotton tee with a black sport jacket (and he had matching gray suede shoes), “or this one?” White button down, a gingham ascot, and the battered blue sport jacket. “Which one makes me look less gay?”

“Honey,” Jan said, leaning closer to her laptop, “you’re going to walk in there with your _husband_. I think that accessory marks you as gay, no matter what you’re wearing.”

“Jan,” Bucky said, pleading, “you know what I mean.”

Jan put her hands on her hips, which made her look a little ridiculous, given that she was six months pregnant, and even with her fashionable maternity wear, she still looked like a melon. Not that Bucky was going to tell her _that_. He liked having his eardrums unsplit. “I know exactly what you mean and it’s why I think you should just move up here where people are less stupid. I think the sun bakes your brains right out.”

“I don’t disagree with that,” Bucky said.

“What, exactly, do you want to say, with your outfit?”

“Responsible parent,” Bucky responded promptly. It was Billie’s second grade “graduation,” after all, and while it probably wasn’t actually a huge deal -- the kids didn’t have to go to class, and Billie would appreciate that, and there were all sorts of awards and ceremonies and it would be sappy and emotional and probably a little bit tedious -- _Billie_ would remember.

She hadn’t really been in town long enough for the locals to have twigged to who she was and who her guardians were; this would be the debut of their little family as a unit, in public, with just the town. It was important to establish, right off the bat, that they had authority over the child, and that she was in good hands.

Issues of Billie’s parentage still waiting on the DNA results -- how the hell long did a paternity test take, anyway? -- but it was looking very likely that Bucky and Tony might need the town’s support, before too long.

Jan absently rested her hands over her burgeoning stomach. “Wear the gray. Much as I love drawing attention to that jaw of yours with a neck piece, it screams gay. In Virginia, at least. In New York, it screams hipster. In neither case does that say _parent_.”

“Thank you, Jan,” Bucky said, pulling the tee over his head. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Jan grinned at him. “If you really meant that, you’d let me do that damn underwear shoot.”

“Letting you take nearly naked pictures of me does not say responsible parent, either,” Bucky pointed out. She was never going to get over his refusal to model for her. Maybe he’d throw her a bone. “Tell you what -- pick a style you want to profile this year and I’ll do _one_ shoot. One, Jan. And my pants stay on--”

“Are you letting Jan talk you out of your clothes again?” Tony said, leaning through the doorway. “Aren’t you ready yet? We’re going to be late.”

“He’s perfect,” Jan yelled from the other end of the video call. “He just wants to look less gay. Hi Tony! Bye Tony!” She reached over and tabbed her computer, the picture snapping back to the blue background.

Bucky sighed. He was going to _kill_ Jan. This was trouble he didn’t need.

“This again?” Tony came the rest of the way into the bedroom and pulled Bucky into a hug. “I think everyone’s going to figure out that you’re gay when we come in together, honey.” It was always just a little disconcerting when Tony and Jan seemed to share the same brain.

Bucky sighed. “It’s not that, babydoll,” he said. “Everyone knows I’m gay. Everyone has known I’m gay since I was a teenager. It’s just… we’re parents now. We need to look. Parental.” He sighed, then looked at himself in the mirror as he pulled on his jacket. At least he wasn’t still giving off serious twink vibes; he’d nurtured that underfed, wide-eyed look for a long time. That wasn’t who he wanted to look like, anymore. He wondered if straight parents had this problem; that someone was going to look at them with their kid and think “nope, that’s not a responsible adult, that’s a faker, someone take the kid away.”

“I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention when you show up to walk her home, but at least half a dozen moms show up to pick up their kids while wearing pajamas. No one is really going to care if you’re wearing a grey t-shirt or a blue one.” Tony kissed his cheek. “They _will_ notice if we’re late, though.”

“We’re not going to be late,” Bucky sulked. He glanced at the clock, though, just to be sure. He grabbed his shoes and stepped into them, tying the laces as quick as he could. Once Tony put the idea of being late into his head, his heart rate was up and he was doing the math to compare walking versus driving and trying to find a parking space. Which was probably math that Tony was much better at, and he was the one who’d brought up being late in the first place.

_Breathe, Barnes-Stark._

“Okay,” Bucky said, finally. “I’m ready.”

“Come on, then; Billie’s about to come drag us along by main force. Though I think she’s more excited about having the afternoon off and the ice cream we promised than the actual ceremony.”

Billie looked adorable. She’d decided that this particular occasion called for dressing up, and had found the fluffy pink Easter-dinner, Southern Belle style dress Maria had picked out for her. She had even tolerated Tony combing her hair and putting it up (although that might have been that he’d done a distinctly Princess Leia in cloud-city style, Bucky couldn’t say). “Well, you look good enough to top a wedding cake, kiddo,” Bucky said.

“Is there gonna be cake?” she demanded, ignoring the compliment.

Bucky shrugged. They’d been asked earlier in the week to donate five dollars, so they had, but he wasn’t sure what the breakdown of that was going to be. “There’s an after graduation party,” he said. “Maybe cake, I don’t know. Chips, probably, at least.”

Ug. What was it with kids and shoes? Bucky had to lift her up and Tony had to put her shoes on because she couldn’t see under the dress in order to get them on. Bucky brushed the wrinkles out of Tony’s shirt. “Let’s _go_ ,” he said, ignoring the fact that he probably should have reminded Billie like four times to put her shoes on first.

He checked the time once more and decided to take the truck; he could drop Tony and Billie at the door and then park. They finally got to the school, and Billie took off almost immediately when she saw Kendra. At least being so close in line alphabetically, they might be able to stand together during the ceremony. He and Steve had always been at opposite ends of the line, but to give his teachers credit, they might have been that way anyway. Quite the double-act, Barnes and Rogers.

He parked, found Tony in the child-sized cafeteria-slash-auditorium and squashed himself into the child-sized chair next to his husband, his knees sticking up absurdly. “Well, this… this takes me back,” he whispered to Tony and pushed his ankle against Tony’s leg. Subtly, of course. Tony’d mentioned off-handed that his parents had never been to any of Tony’s various grade-school events. Bucky wondered what that was like, being the only kid in a class to look out into the audience and see no one looking back.

Tony chuckled. “More pleasant than sitting in the principal’s office, at least.” He pressed his leg back against Bucky’s, looking around the room curiously.

Sarah Casper caught them looking and waved; pretty much the entire family was with her: husband, mother, Sam and their other brother, a handful of kids who weren’t yet school-aged, a cousin. There were enough of Clan Wilson to take up the entire row, and then Wanda at the very end, looking half-asleep and leaning against Sam’s arm. The room got crowded, then too warm, as more and more people squashed into the tiny space.

The head of the PTA stood up and gave some garbled information about the secondary school’s PTA and how everyone should join up, and parents with younger children, blah blah blah. Bucky tuned it out, watching the curtains move and tiny little shoes peep out from under it.

“My sister was in one of these things, once. National Honor society,” he whispered to Tony. “They used to carry candles, an’ one of the guys in Becca’s class dripped wax all in her hair.”

“Well, that sounds unpleasant,” Tony whispered back. “How much longer do you think they’re going to drone on before letting the kids out?”

“Just until we all start actin’ like second graders ourselves, I suspect,” Bucky said. True to his prediction, the muttering in the audience got up to a dull roar before Principal Jameson finally turned things over to the teachers.

Honor roll and straight-A kids got awards. Perfect attendance awards. Gym class. Sports. Most library books read. Most likeable (Not Billie). Best dressed. Most talkative. Quietest (Decidedly not Billie). Most likely to succeed. Class clown. Miss Potts brushed her long red hair out of her face. “And by most votes in class, I’d like to give this last award to one of our newest students, voted by her classmates as ‘Most likely to take over the world,’ Miss Isabelle Barnes.”

The gathered parents broke out into chuckles; beside Bucky, Tony covered his face to hide his laughter. “Well, they’ve pegged her faster than I’d have thought,” Tony chortled.

Bucky nudged Tony in the side and then poked him. “Look, look,” he said, holding up his phone to snap photographs. “Miss Potts actually got her a little tiara. Billie’s going to be insufferable over the summer. This is _all_ your fault.” Bucky was almost grinning too hard to snark at his husband. It had, actually, started with Tony showing Billie _Pinky and the Brain_ cartoons. Probably.

“I think you mean _fabulous_ ,” Tony retorted, still snickering and taking a few photos of his own. “I think that deserves an extra scoop of ice cream, honestly.”

“As long as you’re buying, Mr. Power behind the Throne,” Bucky said.

***

Finally, finally, all the awards were passed out and the kids (and adults) were dismissed to the playground, where there were tables of food and drink set up and some games for the more active kids, and little tables for parents to sit with their kids.

“We appreciate you looking out for her,” Tony told Ms. Potts. “It’s got to be hard to integrate a new kid so late in the school year, and I know she had some trouble... adjusting.” That was putting it mildly; Billie had been a bit of a nightmare for most of the first few weeks.

Ms. Potts laughed, pushing her hair back again. She had a smattering of ginger freckles over her nose. “Well, I won’t sugar-coat it. She was difficult. She’s hardly the worst-behaved student I’ve met, however, and had a better reason for it than most. I daresay next year will go a little easier. I’ve put her in for the accelerated program; you should hear about that over the summer. That’ll challenge her a little more. I wasn’t teaching when her mother went to school here, but some of my colleagues have told me that a bored Barnes is a dangerous creature.”

“I can only imagine,” Tony said. “We’ll look for that information. Also, now that the year’s out, I wanted to invite you to a social event -- nothing fancy, just a bunch of board and card games, but I think you’d enjoy the people. Many of them are about on the second-grade level, maturity-wise.” He grinned.

Ms Potts gave him her sternest teacher look. “Why, Mr. Stark-Barnes, you do know that I go on summer vacation to have a break from 8 year olds, don’t you?” She got to the end of the sentence and then laughed, a tinkling little sound that was utterly adorable. “The school website has my email. Just put something like ‘Not School Related’ in the title so I don’t delete it unread.”

Tony started to respond to that, but spotted another parent coming up behind her, towed by an overexcited child, and decided that it might be time to make his escape. “I’ll let you get back to it, then,” he said. “If that’ll be all, Ms. Potts.”

“That will be all, Mr. Stark,” she said, then gave her best smile to the next parent.

Bucky came up to him a moment later. “It may be more difficult than expected to disentangle the childthing from her friends.” He pointed where Billie was sitting on one of the tables, her dress spread all around her, tiara perched on her head. One of the kids had handed her a wiffle-bat and she was dubbing knights and dames from her classmates. There was quite a line. “All. Your. Fault.”

Oh _god_ , that was adorable. Tony pulled out his phone again. “Sorry not sorry,” he singsonged.

“Yeah, well, go fetch her majesty before she swings that bat too hard and pops some kid in the nose,” Bucky said. He was still grinning so Tony didn’t take it as a serious concern. “Ice cream, I think, is the next business of the day, right? We should bring some back to Dockside, or Nat’ll murder both of us.”

“Mostly just you,” Tony said, winking over his shoulder as he crossed the playground. “I see you’re already making progress on that bright future of yours,” he told Billie, “but let’s put off the rest of the ceremony for another time. We’ve got a very important appointment with the Baskin Robbins to keep.”

Not having grown up in Sandbridge, Tony still didn’t really know one kid from another, unless he’d been introduced, so he wasn’t sure who it was that piped up with, “Ice cream? You have the _best_ parents.”

And it was apparently one of Billie’s good days, because she held out her arms to Tony without fussing and gave the kid a smug smirk. “Yes, I do,” she said.

It probably would not be cool to be seen bawling on the 2nd-grade playground, would it? Tony swallowed around the lump in his throat and helped Billie to get down off the table without catching her dress on anything, snagged the bat from her hand and passed it off to one of her subjects, then led her back over to Bucky. He made a mental note to repeat that conversation to Bucky later, though, in private.

Ice cream accomplished -- and mostly kept off the dress by dint of unfolding a lot of napkins over the front of her neck -- they headed back to Dockside.

Bucky handed off a pint of coffee crunch to Nat, who took it, looked at it, and sighed. “There is for you a certified letter on your desk,” she said. She opened the container, grabbed a spoon, and offered it back to Bucky. “It is from the medical lab.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> American school systems are weird and inconsistent; they vary from state to state and even region to region within the US. In this particular case, schools in the Virginia Beach area break up into groups like this: Kindergarten, 1st, 2nd grade (ages 5-7ish) - primary school; 3rd-5th - secondary; 6th-8th - middle or intermediate; and 9th-12th - high school. Literally twenty miles north, the norm is to lump grades K-5 all together and call it elementary school. When 27dragons was a kid, it was K-6 for elementary school, and then 7-9 was called junior-high, and you weren’t considered actually a high school student until 10th grade. And tisfan spent several years in a private school that was K - 12 all in the same building. It’s all very confusing. But no matter where you are, these days it seems kids can’t just finish one school and move to the next without a ceremony.


	16. Chapter 16

One of these days, Bucky was actually going to think about things before he had to deal with them. A little emotional pre-planning, say. Today… today was not that day.

He fell into his new desk chair heavily. “They will have sent a copy to him, too,” Bucky muttered, trying to convince himself that opening it was the rational and mature thing to do, but fuck, he didn’t want to. He did not want to see his niece’s paternity written out on the sheet. Did he even believe there was a chance that Billie wasn’t Odinson’s kid?

He picked up the brass letter opener on his desk; it had been a gift from Tony to christen the newly decorated office and if it happened to feel like a weapon in Bucky’s hand, that was just a coincidence. “Shit.” He sliced the envelope open with a quick jerk and then stared at it some more.

“I don’t want to lose her like this,” Bucky confessed, staring up at Tony, who was hovering near the end of the desk.

“We won’t,” Tony said. “We will fight it, if it comes to that. Becca didn’t want him in her life; I think that’s a perfectly reasonable argument to begin with.”

Bucky blew out all the air in his chest and waited until his lungs ached before inhaling again. He opened the envelope and unfolded the single page inside. He glanced at the chart, a lot of numbers and little purple and green circles. Even without having access to a sample of Becca’s DNA to compare, the results were pretty conclusive: 99.2%.

“Jesus,” Bucky said. He tossed the letter onto the table. He didn’t know how to say it outloud.

Tony picked it up and skimmed it, and blew out a breath. “Well, it’s not really that much of a shock, I guess. I’ll call Jenn later and get her spun up; if we need to bring in specialists, she’ll know who to recommend. And I’ll have her drop a word in Matt’s ear, too. I don’t want to get my mom hysterical until we know what’s going to happen, but she’ll throw in her resources as well if it becomes necessary. I wonder if--” He stopped, looking closely at Bucky, then dropped the letter and came around the desk to catch Bucky’s face in his hands. “Baby. It’s going to be okay. We’re not going to let Loki take her away.”

Bucky nodded absently. “I want to shake the hell out of my sister,” he said. “Why the _hell_ did she end up making a baby with Loki Odinson? I mean, _really_.”

“How the hell should I know?” Tony said. “Maybe it was the shock and grief. It does strange things to people.”

Bucky scrubbed at his face with both hands. “I do not want to think about Odinson doing strange things to my sister, Tony.” Not that he had any right to criticize. It wasn’t like he hadn’t, oh, god, spent a rather loud evening getting blown up against a shop wall outside the Norva by Thor Odinson. _But I was a kid._ He supposed the thrill of sex, the comfort of closeness didn’t really go away when you got older. He patted Tony’s hand. It didn’t. And Becca had just as much right to it as Bucky did. “Do you believe what he said, about wanting Becca to stay with him?”

Tony made a frustrated face. “You’ve known him longer than I have. He _seemed_ sincere, but you know how he is. He’s hard to read.”

“I… I hardly know him,” Bucky said. “Like, he’s _around_. Everyone knows who he is. The Odinsons are the richest family in the area.” He made a face. “They make us look like we’re struggling to get by. Their dad, George, owns hotels and casinos all up and down the 95 corridor, including one of the more lucrative places in Atlantic City. If they want her, baby, they got money to throw behind it. It’s gonna get ugly.”

Tony sighed. “Well, if we’re not willing to fight, we don’t deserve to keep her anyway. I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But my mom will throw in -- you know she will -- and she still owns some pretty hefty chunks of SI, not to mention the goodwill of several other families. We’ll talk to Loki, see how determined he is, and brace for the storm, and maybe we can come up with some kind of solution. But I don’t see that we’ve got any other choice; do you?”

“No, I guess not,” Bucky said. “I keep thinkin’ she’s all the blood family I got left, but then… Billie is Loki’s _daughter_. Is it right of us… I don’t know. This is… complicated.” He hated complicated. The core part of him wanted to wrap his arms around Billie and refuse, point blank, to give her up. Loki didn’t know her, not yet. And at the same time, how would he feel, if someone was trying to keep his child away from him?

“We’ll talk to Jenn,” Tony promised. “Complicated is her job. Maybe we can figure something out, even if it looks like we’ll lose custody -- get them to agree to postpone the transition until she’s had a chance to get to know them, or mandate visitation with us or... _something_.”

Something in his chest ached, making it hard to swallow. “I love her,” he confessed. “I don’t want her to go.”

Tony’s arms wrapped around him, pulled him close. “I know, baby,” Tony breathed into his hair. “I love her, too.”

***

Mommy had always said not to listen at keyholes or risk being vexed. Billie had never actually seen a keyhole. Keys went in slots and you couldn’t peer through them (she’d tried, she really, really had.) like they showed in cartoons anyway.

She’d gone upstairs to wash her face and hands, then came down to ask Auntie Nat if she could get the zipper on the back of Billie’s fancy dress so she could change and go play. Billie walked right by Uncle Bucky’s office, swishing her skirts and still feeling pretty and royal and pleased when she heard her name.

She wasn’t s’posed to listen, she knew that. But her uncles had been talking about her a lot recently. She knew that, because they _stopped_ talking whenever she came into the room. Mommy and Aunt Jessie had done that a few times, too.

“I want to shake the hell out of my sister,” Uncle Bucky said, quietly. “Why the hell did she end up making a baby with Loki Odinson? I mean, really.”

“How the hell should I know?”

She missed the rest of what Uncle Tony said as the fry-basket buzzer went off in the kitchen. Billie leaned against the door, pressed her ear to the wood.

“...we don’t deserve to keep her anyway,” Uncle Tony said.

Billie flinched away from the door. She thought Uncle Tony _cared_ about her. Maybe not like Mommy did. Did they not _want_ her to live with them?

“… Billie is Loki’s _daughter_. Is it right of us--”

She took several steps back. She had a father? Mommy had always said she didn’t need one, but Billie didn’t realize that she actually _had_ one. And no one had told her? She wanted to push open the office door and yell at her uncles. How could they not tell her?

It didn’t matter.

They didn’t want her anyway. She wiped her eyes on the back of her arm and sniffled.

Well, if they didn’t want her, she didn’t have to stay!

But she wasn’t going with any _father_ , either.

Mr. Loki had been nice enough, she supposed, but she didn’t know him. She didn’t _want_ to know him.

She didn’t need a _father_.

Billie screwed her face up. She wasn’t going to cry. She took a deep gulp of air, then hung in the doorway of the kitchen. As soon as Auntie Nat pushed out with a tray, she dodged into the kitchen. Around Uncle Steve, who was cooking. And out the back door.

She didn’t know where to go.

Right now, she just needed to hide.

She hitched up her dress and ran across the street. She forgot to look both ways and a car honked at her. The driver waved at her impatiently and she scurried across the rest of the street. Scrambled into the bushes. Looked back.

No one seemed to have noticed that she’d left. She straightened her tiara and marched off down the road.

***

Why. Why did seniors want to eat dinner at four in the afternoon. It made no sense. Maybe he’d figure it out when he was sixty-five or so, Tony conceded. There had once been a time in his life when naps were undesirable, after all, and he couldn’t imagine turning one down now. Tony rang up the last of the early “rush” (not that any rushing was involved, with that bunch) and then waved to Nat to let her know the floor was hers.

He ducked back into the kitchen. “Billie’s dinner ready yet?” he asked Steve. She usually ate early, in the dip between the senior rush and the normal dinner crowds that started around five-thirty or six.

Steve glanced up at him, surprised. “She hasn’t told me what she wants today,” he said.

Tony snorted. “All that ice cream filled her up, I guess. Wouldn’t be surprised if she conked out on the couch watching cartoons. I’ll go see what she wants.” He jogged out the back door and up the stairs to the house.

“Hey, buttercup, Uncle Steve wants to know--” Huh. Billie wasn’t on the couch. Muffin lifted her regal head to blink at him slowly, and Lucky, curled on the floor where Muffin had banished him, whined at him. But no Billie. In her room, maybe, though usually she didn’t play in there.

Tony scratched Lucky’s ears. “I know, buddy,” he said, “but if you’re going to let a bit of fluff the size of your paw boss you around, it’s your own fault.” Muffin had exiled Lucky from the couch her third day in the house. It was kind of funny, actually.

Tony knocked on Billie’s door. “Billie? Time for dinner.” No answer. She must have been _really_ exhausted to actually get into bed while the sun was still up. Tony cracked the door to check on her.

She wasn’t in the bed. Frowning, Tony pushed the door open further. She wasn’t in the room. Okay, that... was a little worrisome. He checked the closet, in case she was playing a trick. No.

Heart suddenly thudding, Tony went into his and Bucky’s room, their bathroom. The sewing-and-junk room, in case she was looking at pictures again. The hall bath stood dark and empty. So did the spare bedroom. “Billie!” he called, sharp.

No answer.

Shit. Where had she gotten to? Tony ran back down the stairs and around to Dockside’s front porch, to see if she’d wiggled herself a spot at the bar to watch the ocean. There was no one there under the age of fifty.

He pushed into the restaurant. “Nat, you haven’t seen Billie, have you?”

She shook her head. “Not since you got back. I thought she was upstairs.”

“So did I, but she’s not there.” A dozen terrifying scenarios flashed through Tony’s head all at once, each more horrifying than the last. “Oh my god, where the hell did she go?”

Nat grabbed his arm. “You must be calm, Antonishka,” she admonished. “To think, to look!”

Tony only just stopped short of yanking his arm free. “Yeah, well, if you figure out how to do that, you let me know. How the hell am I supposed to be calm when my--” -- _daughter_ , he almost said, and swallowed it down. She _wasn’t_ his daughter, even if he wished it could be. In point of fact, she was _Loki_ ’s daughter. Fuck.

He put a hand over his eyes. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I’m worried.”

She nodded. “You go look; I will get Bucky to help.”

Tony nodded. He took a deep breath, then pushed back into the kitchen to allay fears of her being trapped in the big walk-in fridge (there was a handle on the inside, it wasn’t actually possible to get stuck in there without something holding it shut from the outside, but that didn’t stop the gruesome images scrolling through his brain). Luckily, the fridge contained nothing that wasn’t supposed to be there.

Nor the freezer, or the pantry, or the storage room.

Jesus. If she wasn’t in Dockside, it was going to be _exponentially_ harder to find her.

Bucky was out a few moments later, strangely calm. He had a pair of binoculars in one hand and his cell phone in the other. “Yeah, hey, Sarah,” he said. “I don’t suppose Billie was over to see Kendra today? Hmmm. Yeah, okay. Oh, could you? I’d appreciate that.” He was walking out of the building and up the stairs, not to the house, but up to the balcony and then up again, onto the widow’s walk.

Tony followed him only as far as the bottom of the stairs before realizing he was going to look out to sea.

Tony shuddered; they’d gotten her up to an inefficient little dog-paddle level of swimming, but she had no chance against the current. Though there was a lifeguard station right by the dock, so _probably_ they would have spotted her if she’d decided today was the day to break the rules about going in the water without an adult.

The beach wasn’t a bad idea, though; Tony ran down the path onto the sand to see if she’d started playing with some tourist kid and wound up wandering out of sight by accident. He didn’t see her, and only a couple of groups in easy range had kids anywhere near her age. He’d have to walk all the way down the beach to be sure, though, and he wanted to check in with Bucky before that, see if maybe she’d turned up at one of her friends’ houses.

Bucky turned with the binoculars, slowly, then came back down the stairs. “No one’s seen her since we got back from ice-cream,” he reported. “Sarah’s on her way here, in case Billie was headed to Kendra’s. She’s still wearin’ that dress your mom got her -- leastways, it ain’t on the floor in her room. That oughta make her easier to spot.”

Tony tried to smile at that, but it was hard, with his heart pounding and his lungs feeling like all the air was being squeezed from them. “You think we should call the police?”

“Do we know how long she’s been gone?” Bucky said. He was still twisting his head from side to side, eyes steady. He had that same razor intensity stare that Tony had seen on his face a few times, when he was shooting a gun. “She knows she ain’t supposed to go down the beach or cross the street without one of us at least watchin’. Not that she’s what I’d call biddable.”

“No, but she was having a pretty good day, earlier.” Tony checked his phone. “It’s been at least half an hour, maybe as much as three hours.”

Bucky shoved a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I wish Clint was here. Damnit. He’s good at… spotting shit. I ain’t half so. A’ight… here’s what we’re gonna do. Sarah’ll be here soon, she can sweep the beach north. You go south. Coordinate with Nat here. I’ll check the ice-cream shop and the Sweet Tooth. Call Riri, she might be able t’help look. Give it… another half hour. If we don’t find her by then, I’ll give Fury a call. He might be a cop, but he’s also a friend. He’ll help us look.”

 


	17. Chapter 17

Billie’s legs were tired. She didn’t know how long she’d walked, but it was _hot_ , and her beautiful dress was starting to feel prickly and heavy instead of swishy and sparkly. The tiara was poking into her head above her ears, and sand kept getting inside her shoes and scraping at her feet.

Her eyes were burning with tears that she was trying desperately not to let loose. She didn’t want a father and she didn’t want her stupid uncles who didn’t want her either. Mom was right, this place was _stupid_ and _horrible_ and she _hated it_.

And even if she wanted to go back to Dockside now, it was too far away, because she didn’t think she could take one more step.

Billie choked back a sob and looked around. There was a short row of houses just ahead. They looked familiar. The second one had a fence around it that was painted with flowers all over it, and Billie definitely remembered that. She had come here with Uncle Bucky a couple of weeks ago because one of the waitresses had been sick -- not Nat, but the one with hair almost as dark as Billie’s -- and she and Uncle Bucky had brought some soup.

Billie couldn’t remember her name. It started with a W, though, she thought. Wendy? No.

Uncle Bucky hadn’t let Billie come inside with him ‘cause he hadn’t wanted Billie to get sick, too, so she’d waited for him in the garden. Whitney? No. Anyway, the lady had a really nice garden, with lots of flowers even now that it was summer and a little pond with a fountain of a frog spitting water into the air that made Billie giggle.

There weren’t a lot of trees -- they didn’t grow so good here because of all the sand, Uncle Tony had told her, which was why there weren’t many trees in Sandbridge but _lots_ of them when you went up a ways from the beach. But there was a huge bush with these big drape-y branches and Billie had played under it and pretended it was a fairy house.

Winona? No, that wasn’t right either. She probably wouldn’t mind if Billie went and sat under the bush for a little while to rest. It was just so HOT and Billie’s feet hurt from the sand and the walking, and the bush hung right over the edge of the pond so Billie could take off her shoes and socks and put her feet in the water.

She looked around and didn’t see anyone, so she lifted the latch on the gate and went into the garden. There wasn’t any grass under the bush, but the ground was mossy and cool. It felt nice.

_So much sand_ poured out of her shoe when she took it off. Oh gosh, it was almost enough sand for a _sandcastle_. And even more sprayed everywhere when she peeled off her sock. She brushed it off her dress and looked at her foot. There were red spots along her heel and on the ball, and there was a blister on the side of one toe from the sand. Stupid sand.

She took off the other shoe, too. That foot didn’t hurt quite as much, but it was silly to have only one shoe on. She put her feet in the pond and that felt _so good_ , she almost forgot she was mad and sad. She took the tiara off and hung it on one of the branches.

Her tummy made a funny rumbling noise and she realized she was hungry. Was it almost dinnertime yet? She looked up at the sky, but she really didn’t know. She wondered if there were any berries or fruit in the garden, but she couldn’t see any from where she was sitting.

Maybe she should’ve waited until after dinner to run away. Even if her uncles didn’t really want her, they always fed her. But that thought made her sad and mad again and the tears made her throat all tight and her eyes burned and there wasn’t anyone to see, so she just let them come, dripping down her face and making blotches on her dress and she was _all alone_ and no one wanted her except maybe someone she didn’t even know.

_Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?_ Mom would have said, but Billie shook her head furiously. Mom was _gone_ and she _was_ all alone and that wasn’t dramatic, that was just true and she wasn’t even going to see her friends from school for months and months and no one would know she’d run away. Besides, the nice lady that Uncle Tony had taken her to see to talk about her mom and how she was feeling about things said sometimes it felt good to cry, so Billie folded her arms over her knees and put her head down on them and cried.

It wasn’t dark, but the sky was all red by the time a pair of shoes appeared near her bush. “Well, looks like I found me a princess hiding in my castle,” a man said. He dropped to one knee near her. “Oh. Billie Barnes, as I live and breathe.” He smiled at her. There was a little gap between his teeth. It was Kendra’s uncle who sometimes washed dishes at Dockside, Mr. Sam.

Billie felt kind of achy and tired from all the crying, and she’d thought she’d stopped, but the tears started right back up as soon as she saw him. Her breath hitched and she tried to say, “Hi, Mr. Sam,” but it came out all wobbly and weird.

“Oh, hey,” Mr. Sam said. He sat down on the moss with a thump, next to her. “Did something bad happen?”

Billie’s lip quivered and she nodded, but it took her a couple of minutes to manage to talk again. “I hafta have a dad!”

“Well, most people do,” Mr. Sam said. “It’s not such a bad thing, most of the time. Don’t change nothin’. Your uncles are still your uncles. They find your dad, kiddo?”  

She nodded. “An’ I’mma have to go live with him and I don’t _wanna_ and they don’t even care!”

Mr. Sam blinked at her, looking puzzled. “I would be willing to bet you an _entire pie_ that that is not true.”

“Yuh-huh!” she protested. “Uncle Tony said they weren’t gonna keep me and Uncle Bucky said it wasn’t _right_! I _heard_!”

“Uh-huh,” Mr. Sam said. “So, they were talking about you, but not to you?” He circled his arms around his knees and looked at her. Calm, quiet. Kinda like the lady Uncle Tony had her talking to, sometimes.

She nodded. “They was in Uncle Bucky’s office.” She sniffed. “An’ they didn’t know I was there, so they didn’t hafta be nice.”

“Kiddo, I have known your Uncle Bucky for a great number of years now, an’ I’ll tell you one thing I know for sure about him,” Mr. Sam said. “He’s nice. All the time. An’ I know he loves you just as much as he possibly can. Do you want t’ talk with him about this, get all the facts, before you go breakin’ his heart by running away?”

Another tear slipped down her face. “If he loves me, howcome he don’t wanna keep me?”

“If your dad is trying to get custody of you, babygirl, they might be worried that there’s no choices,” Mr. Sam said. “But there are always options. Your dad, he hasn’t been part of your life. An’ your mother, she put them in charge of you. And I think, if you have a strong opinion on it, that’ll matter, in a court. Can I call him? I’ll bet he’s awful worried about you.”

She bit her lip, then nodded. “I guess.”

Mr. Sam pulled out his phone and tapped it a few times. He put it up to his ear. “Oh, hey Nat,” he said. “Yeah, it’s Sam. Is Bucky-- yep. Yep. His princess is in Wanda’s castle.” _Wanda!_ That was the lady’s name! “She just wandered in, th’ gate was unlocked when I came… yep. No, she’s fine. Little dirty and bedraggled. Probably hungry. Yeah, sure thing. We’ll wait for him here.” Sam poked his phone and tucked it in his pocket. “Okay, then. Nat says that he and your Uncle Tony are looking all over for you, and she’s goan call them an’ let them know where you are, okay? In the meanwhile, you wanna come inside and have a Coke with me?”

A Coke sounded really good. She nodded, and let Mr. Sam help her up and pick up her shoes and socks, and brush the dirt off her dress a bit. “They’re really lookin’?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if your Uncle Bucky had roused th’ whole sandbar, looking for you,” Mr. Sam said. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the back door, letting her into the kitchen. “This is Wanda and me and Peter’s home, but they’re both at work, still. An’ I don’t cook, but I might be able to dig you up a granola bar, if you’re hungry?” He pulled two cans of soda out of the fridge and put one on the table for her, cracking it open with one hand.

She considered that while she pulled the can closer and took a long drink. Her stomach made that rumble again and it kind of hurt a bit. Ice cream seemed a very long time ago. “Yes please, Mr. Sam,” she said. “Thank you.”

Mr. Sam had just placed a bar with chocolate chips in it next to her when someone banged on the door. “Bet that’s your uncle. I’ll just let him in, you can stay there,” Mr. Sam said. He walked out of the room.

For a moment, she could hear Mr. Sam talking, quick and soft. And then, her uncle. “Dammit, Sam, get out of the way! That is my _KID_ you are talking about and I want to see her right now.”

_My kid_? she thought, and then Uncle Bucky was there and he was hugging her almost too tight. Maybe he cared after all. And then Mr. Sam came back into the kitchen and he smiled at her and lifted his eyebrows and Billie had to tuck her face into Uncle Bucky’s neck so she wasn’t looking at Mr. Sam’s told-you-so face.

“Oh, honey, you scared me to death,” Uncle Bucky said. He was petting her, like she was Muffin. Touching her hair, her face, hugging her again. “I was so _worried_.” A moment later, Uncle Tony practically threw the door open, not even knocking.

“Is she okay?” Uncle Tony said, sounding sort of wheezy and out of breath. When Billie looked up, his eyes were sort of red. “Oh, god, Billie,” he gasped. He came and hugged her and Uncle Bucky together. “You okay, buttercup?”

She nodded, though all the hugging was making her want to cry some more. “I don’t wanna dad,” she said, and her voice sounded funny. “I don’t wanna leave.”

“Oh, _honey_ ,” Uncle Bucky said again. He sounded like he might cry. “Uncle Tony and I are gonna do everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen. Okay? We’re not giving you up without a fight. I promise.”   

Billie clung tighter. “But you _said_ ,” she sobbed. “You _said_ it wasn’t _right_.”

“No, baby, that’s not what I said,” Uncle Bucky said. “I _asked_ if it was. ‘Cause this is what I want, you and me and Uncle Tony, as family. But here’s the thing. Your dad knows who you are. He knows. And you’re part of him, and part of your mom. That… that gives him claim on you. Remember when we got your cheek swabbed? That was to check, to see if he really is your dad. And he is.”

Billie shook her head. “I don’ want a dad. Mom said I didn’t need a dad!”

“I know she did,” Uncle Bucky said. “And if it comes down to that, we’re going to tell a judge that exact same thing. But first, we gotta talk to your dad. Okay? He will have gotten that same letter today that we did. We’ll figure it out, honey. We love you, you know that, right? Love you so much. We don’t want you to go.”   

“Promise?”

“God, yes,” Uncle Bucky said. “Right, Tony?”

“Cross my heart,” Uncle Tony swore, and kissed the top of her head. “We’re going to try our very hardest to keep you with us.”

Billie sighed and felt kind of loose and floppy all of a sudden. The hug was nice and warm and it felt really good. Right up until her tummy made another noise. “Can I have dinner now?”

“Yes, yes you may,” Uncle Bucky said. “One cheesy with no mustard relish, because you are a freak and you don’t know good food when you eat it.” He scooped her up and hugged her again, really tight. “How about I carry you? Your feet look like they hurt.”

Mr. Sam laughed. “Found her in Wanda’s koi pond, soakin’ her feet, as a matter of fact.”

Uncle Tony snorted. “Well, there you go.” He squinted at her feet, and then looked around the room. “Any chance you found-- Oh, good. She didn’t actually sacrifice the shoes to the koi.” He picked up her shoes and socks from where Mr. Sam had left them by the door. “Right. Well. If we get back soon, there’s a chance Nat won’t even completely murder us for making her do the whole dinner rush by herself.” He shook Sam’s hand. “Thanks.”

Uncle Bucky carried her the whole way back to Dockside, with Uncle Tony walking beside them. He kept petting her arm, or sometimes Uncle Bucky’s arm. Billie put her head on Uncle Bucky’s shoulder. “Sorry,” she said, very quiet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some sort of explanation for non Americans, and maybe northern readers as well, children in the southern US tend to use "Aunt" and "Uncle" for close friends of their parents; whereas the parents of their own friends are "Miss", "Ms." or "Mr." with either the last name or first name, depending on how close they are. Sam falls between these two categories, because he's the uncle of Billie's friend, but also a friend of her (actual) uncles, but since Billie doesn't know him as well as, say, she knows Steve and Nat (because he's not at Dockside as often), he's Mr. Sam, which is familiar but not quite as informal as Uncle would be. (Also because if she called him Uncle Sam, Bucky and Tony would never stop snickering about it.)


	18. Chapter 18

The sound of knocking took a while to penetrate Tony's sleeping brain. He considered ignoring it, but anyone who took the time to climb up the stairs to their front door and knock probably had some sort of reason for it. He checked the time -- barely past 8am. Lucky would want to be walked soon, anyway. He groaned and rolled upright, wincing a little at the stinging ache in his ass. After two days of keeping Billie close at hand, they'd caved to her begging and let her have a sleepover at Kendra’s. Without her inhibiting presence, their lovemaking the previous night had been... vigorous.

Tony grinned at the memory and grabbed his sweats.

“Mmf?” Bucky mumbled.

“Someone at the door,” Tony told him.

One storm-gray eye opened. “Billie?”

“Still at Kendra’s,” Tony said. “If anything was wrong, Ms. Casper would've called.”

Bucky considered that, his eye slitted, then nodded agreement. “Loki?” he suggested. They'd been walking on eggshells the last few days, certain any moment that Odinson would make his demands, but so far they'd heard nothing. “More time to prepare,” Jenn had told them cheerfully.

“Maybe,” Tony allowed. “I'll let you know.”

“Mkay,” Bucky said, but he rolled toward his side of the bed and reached for his own pants. Bucky never went back to sleep once he’d woken up.

The door opened on a tall man, salt-and-pepper hair gone fully white at the temples, giving him a distinguished appearance. He was wearing a full business suit and carrying a case. Loki had been spending the last few days preparing, too, obviously. “Yes?”

“Good morning,” the man said gravely. He did not offer a hand. “My name is Thaddeus Ross, and I represent Child Protective Services.”

Tony had been so certain the man was Loki’s lawyer that it took him a few extra beats for that to register. “I’m sorry?” he managed.

“So am I,” Ross said, without any trace of humor. “When my services are required, it means a child’s wellbeing is in danger.”

“I don't understand,” Tony said, trying to maintain outward calm despite the way his blood was suddenly rushing in his ears.

“CPS has been made aware that your -- niece, is it? -- may be... less than adequately provided for. I am here to perform an inspection of the premises.” He said it in a calm, even tone, but the way his lip curled when his eyes lingered on the hickey on Tony’s collarbone said plenty. “Is Miss Barnes available?”

Tony resisted the urge to try to cover the bruises. Ross had already seen them; trying to hide them now would look guilty. “No,” he said. “She’s at a sleepover with a friend. Is Loki really trying to play this card?”

“I can’t tell you who’s registered the complaint,” Ross said, looking entirely too pleased about it. “Are you going to let me in?”

Bucky came out of the back room, pulling a tee over his head, then finger combed his hair into place. He stopped dead just inside the room. “Ross,” he said. “I know you.”

Ross looked up, his eyebrows going up. “Mr. Barnes. How nice to see you again.” Dry enough for a desert, that.

“It’s Barnes-Stark, now.” Bucky straightened up, rolling his shoulders. His spine crackled unpleasantly. “And this is my husband, Mr. Stark-Barnes. Please, do come in. May we see your orders and credentials before proceeding?” He glanced over at the clock.

“Of course,” Ross said, though he was scowling. He set his briefcase on the coffee table and opened it, withdrawing a sheaf of papers that he offered to Bucky.

Bucky hummed, flipping through the pages slowly. “How… very thorough of you, Mr. Ross. Neglect, possible abuse, unsuitable living arrangements. Care to elaborate on that last one?”

Ross sniffed. “You must admit, Mr. Barnes, this is hardly anything like a normal home.”

Bucky looked around the house, exaggerated. He raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps my definitions are off, Mr. Ross.” He gave Ross a shark’s grin. “I see: married couple, been together a few years. Successful business. Well-kept home. Pets.”

Ross grunted. “I note that your well-kept home is situated directly above a business that serves alcohol and is open until almost midnight, which might make it difficult for a child to sleep. And I also note that you both work for said business -- who is home with Miss Barnes in the evenings?”

“It varies,” Bucky said. “As you’ve noted in the past, the nature of the business is very flexible. Billie spends a lot of her time belowstairs, in my office, or in the kitchen with Steve Rogers. In the evenings, we alternate on check-ins and who’s sitting with her, depending on who’s needed below.” He took a seat at the dining room table, still skimming through the paperwork, his shoulders held high and stiff. “Is this our formal interview or just the notification?”

Ross smiled thinly. “You are aware of our policies, Mr. Barnes. If we notified families of our intent to inspect ahead of time, we certainly would not be seeing the child’s real environment. I’ll start with the child’s room, please.”

Tony glanced at Bucky, who gave him a tired nod. Tony suppressed a sigh and gestured. “This way, Mr. Ross.” He opened the door to Billie’s room and let Ross sweep ahead of him, suddenly grateful that they’d made picking up her room a condition of the sleepover.

The smell of the guinea pigs, cedar and waste, was a little thicker in Billlie’s room, as tended to happen with rodents, but the look on Ross’s face was not reassuring. Muffin stretched, coming out from the back bedroom; as always, eager for a peek in Billie’s room where she wasn’t allowed unsupervised. Bucky grabbed the kitten and draped her over his shoulder where she started kneading at his chest with her tiny claws. Bucky made a low, not-quite-chuckling noise. “She has, I think you’ll find, a rather adequate wardrobe. Seasonal items, as well as general purpose clothing.”

Ross hummed dubiously as he opened drawers and pulled out random items to look at. “A bit extravagant for a seven-year-old,” he observed.

“Grandparents are extravagant people,” Tony said with a shrug. “My mom took her shopping as a treat.”

Ross grunted again, and kept poking. He found an empty granola bar wrapper under the bed, and didn’t say anything, just gave them a dark glower.

Bucky apparently knew the whole routine; watched without talking, as Ross inspected the bedroom, the bathroom, peered in the fridge and pantry. He was careful, keeping Ross between himself and Tony, so the man couldn’t look at both of them at the same time, and on a few occasions, gave Tony a quick headshake, just the barest movement of his chin.

Ross was thorough; checked the security of the windows and the door locks, and went as far as to shake the railing around the balcony. Made another face at the coffee can of sand that Bucky used to stub his smokes. He didn’t, at least, seem to be aware of Billie’s attempt to run away from home. The whole time, Tony watched as Bucky’s shoulders got tighter and his stance grew more stubborn, his jaw set and his eyes steely.

By the time Ross left, Bucky was looking as unhappy and tense as Tony had ever seen him. He waited until Ross’ car was out of sight, then laced his fingers through Bucky’s. “Babe?”

“Lemme call Kendra’s mom, real quick,” Bucky said. “Won’t take him long to get there, and he can legally take her for an interview.” He chewed his lip, then scrubbed one hand through his hair.

Call placed and Ms. Casper informed, Bucky threw himself down on the sofa. “Loki, that son of a… he couldn’t come talk to us? He had to pull this shit? Crap. I need to warn Steve.”

Tony grimaced. “They can pigeonhole our friends, too? Ug. Who else should we warn?”

“Everybody who works here. Her babysitters. Her teacher. We’ve… Steve an’ I’ve been through this,” Bucky said. He sank his fingers into his hair and yanked. “Same asshole, too. Fuckin’ Thunderbolt Thaddeus Ross. Tried to take Steve from my parents an’ put him in a home for boys.”

“Jesus,” Tony growled. “And your parents weren’t even gay.” He pulled out his phone and started composing a carefully-phrased mass text for the part-time Dockside staff.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Steve was bein’ bullied at school, an’ his… well, Steve’s dad and your dad took lessons at the same school of parenting. When the bruising didn’t stop when Joe Rogers left town, people started looking elsewhere.” Bucky clenched his fist in his hair. “Ross is gonna scare her to death.”

Tony had to close his eyes for a moment and remember how to breathe, because Bucky was right; Ross wasn’t exactly a teddy bear kind of guy. Christ. “Anything we can do?”

“If he works himself up to actually rude, yes,” Bucky said. “He’s a civil servant, he answers to a manager. Doesn’t speak well of him that he’s still doin’ this and hasn’t gotten a promotion to a desk job. But we can file a complaint, if he gets ugly. He won’t. He’s very… politic. Call Jenn. CPS has to get us a copy of the initial concern paperwork within twenty-four hours. And… don’t talk to him. Even when he’s doing your interview. Just what he asks and no more.”

Tony nodded and flipped to his contacts list. “Got it. You don’t-- I didn’t say anything he can use, do you think?” He tried to play back over the whole inspection quickly, but how should he know what was and wasn’t good?

“God only knows,” Bucky said. “We’re not doin’ anything wrong. House is clean, she’s got clothes an’ food. It’ll be fine. Just. Nerve-wracking.” He chewed his lip until it was red and swollen. “It’ll be fine, baby. It will.” Tony wasn’t sure who Bucky was trying to convince.  

“Of course it will,” Tony said. He kissed Bucky’s cheek. “One of these days, I’m going to kick Loki in the balls.”

“We’ll sic Nat on him,” Bucky promised.

***

Bucky was so, so very bad at doing nothing. He’d just never been the sort to sit around and watch television for long. But he didn’t want to dump all the childcare on Tony; that was hardly fair. With Ross creeping around, it was better if Billie wasn’t found alone in the house with Tony and Bucky both belowstairs. Bucky personally thought it was ridiculous; someone checked on her a few times during the night and there hadn’t been a problem.

It did mean that Billie could drag him into playing all sorts of silly games -- he’d gotten a deeper education about Monster High dolls and their teenage drama than he’d previously considered existed -- and tempt him into building Lego castles. He’d even dug into some of his mom’s old reenacting garb -- Tony had been ambushed by a seven-year-old wearing a tri-cornered hat and toting a bayonet made from a paper-towel tube coming up the stairs.

Bucky was stretched out on the sofa taking care of the doll that Billie had charged him with babysitting. He probably wasn’t doing a very good job, not knowing the first thing about infants, but sticking the bottle in the doll’s mouth seemed to satisfy his niece for childcare.

“Uncle Bucky? How come I have a dad?” That wasn’t the winding-up-for-a-tantrum voice; it sounded like genuine curiosity.

Bucky tipped his head backward to look at her, upside down. She was cooking over the play stove that Maria bought her. “Almost everyone does, honey,” he said. “That’s how it works.”   

“How _what_ works? I never had a dad before. How come the spit test thing says Loki’s my dad?”

Bucky inhaled. _Oh, fuck, Becca_. “Your mom never talked to you about that?” He sat up, slow, keeping the babydoll on his lap so she didn’t fuss.

“Mom said I didn’t need a dad,” Billie reminded him. “But Uncle Tony says Loki was always my dad, just Mom didn’t want him to live with us.”

“Well, there’s a difference between a father and a dad, honey,” Bucky said. Jesus, explaining the birds and the bees? He drew in a slow breath and let it out. “Okay, here’s the thing, sweetie, in order to have a baby, you need to have three things. Girl DNA, Boy DNA, and a womb to grow it in. So, your mom made the girl DNA and she had you in her stomach, in her womb, for nine months, while you grew from a two-celled little embryo into a baby. But she got the boy DNA from Loki.”

Billie looked down at her own stomach and poked at it curiously. “How does the boy deenay get inside? Do you hafta eat it?”

Bucky made a face. _Jesus, don’t think of that, do not, I absolutely forbid you thinking about that._ “Okay, let’s see where our common ground is. You know that girl bits are different from boy bits, right? Your private parts?”

She nodded. “One of the kids on the beach, his swimsuit fell off while he was comin’ out of the water an’ his peepee was hangin’ all out.”

_Oh dear god._ “Okay, I guess I missed that,” he said. “Well, when people get older -- because right now you have to use all your energy for growing up -- they can make babies. A boy will put his part, it’s called a penis, but please try not to say that word too much in public, okay? It makes adults nervous. Anyway, he puts it inside a girl’s bits. Her vagina. And there’s a tube that goes right up to where a girl’s womb is, and sometimes, it makes a baby there.”

Billie looked _horrified_. She stared at him with big, round eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Bucky said. “It’s biology, so it’s kinda messy by default. But nice.”

Her face crumpled up like he’d asked her to eat turnips. “It sounds really gross. Loki really did that to my mom?”

_Not really something I want to think about, kiddo!_ “He did that _with_ her, yes,” Bucky said. “People do it -- intercourse -- because they like to. It feels good. When you’re a grown-up. Right now, your body’s not ready for that. But when you get older. Not everybody likes it, but most people do.”

She looked extremely dubious. “Did you ever do it?”

Bucky could feel the heat on his neck, so bad it was a wonder his hair didn’t catch on fire. “Yes,” he said, finally, deciding that lying was right out of the question. “But not with girls. Your uncle Tony is my husband, you know that, right?”

“You do that with _Uncle Tony_?” she squeaked, shocked. “But Uncle Tony can’t make a baby! He doesn’t have girl deenay!”

“I know,” Bucky said. Not that it was going to matter, because after this conversation was over, he was never, _ever_ having sex again. _Oh, god_. “But it still feels good. Making a baby is only one reason to have intercourse. People do it because it feels good, and because they want to be close with their partner. Like… like hugging. You know how it feels good to hug someone you love? Touching other people that we like sets off hormones that make us feel good. And when you care about someone a lot, those hormones are really powerful.”

Billie made another face. “I don’t wanna do that never,” she said. “ _Gross_.” She frowned a little. “Did Mom and Loki care about each other a lot?”

_Shit_. “I don’t know, Billie,” he said. “Your mom and I didn’t talk a lot. Loki told me an’ Tony that he asked your mom to stay here, with him. I guess you know what she thought of that idea. She was pretty upset at the time; she may… well, you know how you eat ice cream when you’re upset and it makes it a little better? Your mom may have gotten with Loki to help her feel better. And then she had you, and I know she loved you, _so much_ , so in the long run, it really did help her feel better.”

“She should’a just had some ice cream,” Billie said, as if she thought that would be an infinitely better idea. “But then I guess she wouldn’t have me.”

“Well, I’m pretty glad you’re here,” Bucky said. “I know I wouldn’t trade you for all the ice cream, ever.”

She beamed at him. “Even with sprinkles an’ whipped cream?”

“If I had to make a choice, I would take you, over all the ice cream in the world. _Ever_.”

Billie considered that. “Does that mean I can have your ice cream from now on?”

“I see your Auntie Nat’s been teaching you all the important life lessons,” Bucky said. “But no, nobody’s making that particular offer right now. I’ll get back to you, if it becomes a legit problem that we need to worry about, okay?”

She giggled and went back to tending her pretend cookery. After a few minutes, she said, “Ice cream is better. You get to share ice cream with everyone.”

“Some day, a very long time from now, I’ll remind you that you said that,” Bucky said. He took a deep breath and let it out. Okay. That was… mostly okay. Probably. He pulled out his phone and texted Tony. _Sorry babe. Nvr hvng sex again._

New text from Tony: _Dare I ask?_

_I am traumatized._

New text from Tony: _Poor bb, ill kiss it better ::kiss emoji::_

New text from Tony: _wh happn? She fnd old condoms in hall bthroom or smth?_

...Shit, now Bucky had to go check all the cabinets in the hall bathroom. Discreetly.

 


	19. Chapter 19

“I cannot believe you still have not informed our parents of this development, brother,” Thor said. His bulk took up half the space at the picnic table across from Loki, providing much needed shade from the setting sun.

“It’s not that I don’t love our little talks,” Loki said, brushing the wrinkles out of his shirt, “it’s just… I don’t love them. I will tell Mother and Father what they need to know, when they need to know it.”

“You always did play your cards close,” Thor said, “but this is bordering on deceitful, even for you. Do you not think they need to be made aware?”

“Have I, at any point in our lengthy relationship, ever given you impression that I will do what you ask just because you nag me? No? That’s because I have not,” Loki said. “I asked for your support, I appreciate that you are giving it. Now, stop rehashing this argument.”

“Be careful how you go on from this point,” Thor said, clapping Loki’s arm. “There are more hearts at stake than your own.”

Loki rolled his eyes. Thor could get on his very last nerve. He scanned the crowd again; events at the park were well attended, but he’d been quite precise when selecting a meeting location. “What do you know of hearts, brother?” Loki had barely gotten the words out when he spotted Stark, and from Stark, it was easy to trace the line to Barnes, and then to the tiny creature running at them, full tilt.

“Thor!” she yelled, and flung herself directly at them, trusting Thor to catch her before she brained herself on the table. Which he did, of course, the big oaf that he was. He picked her up and swung her around, letting out a booming laugh at her squeal of delight.

Barnes and Stark looked significantly less pleased as they caught up. “Thor,” Stark greeted, somewhat cooly. “Loki.” That was downright frigid.

Loki waited, unmoving, until Thor realized that he was being watched by several sets of gazes and rather reluctantly put his niece on the ground. “Go and greet your father, child,” Thor said, giving her a gentle tap in that direction. Loki leaned forward, almost unconsciously, wanting to touch that small face and search it for the resemblances. He blinked, several times. _This_. This is what he could have had and did not.

“Good evening,” Loki said, extending one hand to the girl. She gave him a suspicious look that was… remarkably like her mother.

She just looked at him for a moment, somber, her cheeks still flushed from the excitement of a moment ago. Finally, she took his hand and shook it, a bit hastily. “Hi,” she said. “They said you’re my, my father.”

“I am also thus informed,” Loki said. “It was perhaps near as much a surprise to me as to you. A strange, unexpected, and wonderful surprise. You certainly have the look. It’s astonishing.”

“What look?” she asked, taking a step back to lean into Barnes’ side.

Loki tapped his face, just to the side of his left eye. “You have my eyes, princess,” he said. “Not common among your extended family. Your Uncle Thor, you see, has blue eyes, as do both our mother and father. I am somewhat of a throwback, I’m told.” He tried on a smile; Becca had once told him that his smile was charming. It was not his usual expression. “I see your mother in you, as well.”

Billie’s head cocked to one side as she studied him. “I guess so,” she allowed. “Do you like Legos?”

“At one point, Thor and I had quite a number of them.” Loki said. “But I have not seen them in years. Are they a favorite of yours? I’m afraid I’m not well versed with what interests children, but I am willing to be educated. We could make an attempt to learn together, could we not?”

Thor was being distinctly unhelpful, rolling his eyes behind the girl’s head and peering around at the scene as if bored. He probably was. Thor barely had space in his head for more than one thought at a time.

She shook her head. “My favorite is playing house. But boys aren’t very good at it.” She gave Barnes a pitying look, amusingly out-of-place on her young features. “Legos are okay. I have lots.”

“Perhaps boys haven’t had very good instruction in playing house,” Loki said. “I shall depend on you to instruct me. So, I shall offer you an alternative for the moment. I would like to speak with your Uncles Barnes and Stark. Would you like your Uncle Thor to take you over to the playground -- there, princess, where the castle is -- or should you like to contribute to our discussion?”

That caught her attention, and she looked somewhat flattered by the offer. “What are you gonna talk about?”

“Legal matters and the results of the paternity test, and your preferences for your living arrangements, and those sorts of things,” Loki said. “As it applies to your future, it might have some small interest to you, but I am also getting the impression your uncles wish to yell at me for a while, so I thought we might not bore you with that.”

Billie grinned hugely. “Better you than me!” she sing-songed, and caught hold of the hem of Thor’s shirt. “Will you push me on the swings?”

Barnes cleared his throat expectantly.

“Please!” she tacked on, rolling her eyes a little.

“I should be delighted,” Thor said. He grabbed the girl around the waist and hoisted her up onto his shoulders. “I shall be your noble steed until that time, so point me in the direction you wish to travel!” Well, maybe Thor had the right idea; he was about a smart as a thoroughbred. Loki watched, absently, as they vanished into the crowd, the girl shrieking with delight as they went, tugging at Thor’s hair to steer him.

“Well, that went much more smoothly than expected,” Loki commented, leaning against the picnic table and rubbing at his chin. “She is either on her best behavior, or she has more restraint than either of her parents.”

“She’s in a good mood today,” Stark said. “Possibly because today’s the first day in the last five that she _hasn’t_ had to deal with your stooge.”

Loki straightened. “What are you speaking of?”

Barnes scowled, looking like a masculine copy of his sister, and if that wasn’t disturbing, Loki did not know what was. “Don’t you play coy,” Barnes snarled. “This week has been a fuckin’ nightmare! She’s freakin’ terrified of him. _Why_? Why would you do that, to her, if nothin’ else. Ain’t she had a bad enough time as it is?”

“I assure you that I do not know what you are talking about,” Loki said, smoothing down his shirt again as if Barnes’ anger had ruffled the fabric. “I have spoken to no one of these matters, save my brother.”

“Yeah, okay, _anonymous complainant_ ,” Stark growled. “Did you think we wouldn’t figure it out, really? Who else could _possibly_ stand to gain?”

Loki took a deep breath. Whatever this was, they were very angry. He’d had some experience, running bars and casinos, in dealing with angry men. “I realize this is a stretch,” he said, slowly, trying to bring the general hostility down to an acceptable level, “but let’s pretend that I’m stupid. What are you speaking of?”

“Have it your way,” Stark said. “But I’ve got to say, your strategy needs work. It’s a low fucking blow, siccing CPS on us like that, and it’s not going to _work_. When Billie figures out that you’re the one who set that hound on us, she’s going to be less than happy with you. And let me tell you, the kid knows how to hold a grudge.”

Loki stared down at his hands for a long moment, brain whirling in several directions at once. Any advantage he’d had at all was lost. He came to the table now, several points down, and Loki rarely bet when he did not have the clear advantage. He was not, however, reduced to pleading his case, either. He lifted his chin. “Perhaps it is just as well that I have sent her away with Thor,” he said. “I should not like her to believe me capable --”

“Oh, cut the crap, Odinson,” Barnes snapped. “What’s your problem with us? We were willin’ to come and discuss this with you, work somethin’ out. An’ you’re gonna put us in this position? You know that Becca didn’t want nothin’ to do with you. You get that kid in front of a judge and he may decide against both. You want your kid growin’ up in a foster home?”

Loki took a deep breath, willing himself to calm. He was silver-tongued, had that reputation. His father had trusted him to mediate several take-overs and they had all gone smoothly. He could do this. Just because it was _family_ was no need to lose his temper. “Clearly, you have already decided against me,” Loki said, leaning to one side and making himself smaller, less a threat. It was painful to back down, physically agonizing to bite his tongue and make sweet. “And therefore I suggest we table any changes in Billie’s living arrangements for the time being. If my understanding is correct, if she lives with you through the fall, she will continue to be registered in classes there, and it would be most convenient for her if she remain at Dockside for the next academic year. We might discuss an afternoon visit or two, during the summer, that I might get to know her. And we will put off any thought of relocating her for at least a school year?”

Stark’s eyes were narrowed, as if he were searching for some trap in what Loki thought was an imminently reasonable offer. “Why--”

“Damn it, Stark, she is my _daughter_ ,” Loki snapped. “Give me some credit for not wishing to alienate her immediately. Whatever you think of me, I assure you, I am not that terrible.”

“And yet, this bullshit with CPS,” Stark shot back. “Which, I might add, isn’t likely to go any better for you than it is for us. At least we’re running a family restaurant; what are they going to think about her moving into a _bar_?”

“That is my offer. We will table this discussion _immediately_. You will treat me with some semblance of respect. You will not undermine my position with my daughter. And you will have her for another year before I decide to _get ugly._ If you think this... this pettiness has aught to do with me, you are mistaken. If you should like to continue to war over it, I will do so. That was not what I wanted. I wished…” Loki shut his mouth so hard and so sudden that he bit his tongue, crossing his arms over his chest, breath hard and heavy in his lungs. What was it about the Barnes family that made him so insane? Must be genetic. His daughter was sure to be a handful. He almost smiled at that.

Stark was still bristling like a feral cat, but he hesitated, eyes on Loki’s face. “I’m starting to think you’re telling the truth,” he said. “If your deal is a postponement and visitation, CPS is the wrong move. You’re not that dumb.”

“I thank you for noticing,” Loki said. “You do realize that I have not yet even spoken of this with _my parents_. Something for which you should be grateful: as Barnes will tell you, what my father claims as his own, he _keeps_. Believe me, I embrace the thought of his involvement as much as you might. I wish… I wish only to have the opportunity to get to know her. To decide how best to proceed. For her sake.”

Barnes did not look convinced, but much as Loki was the intelligent one of his family, Stark led the group on the other side. “If you’re so damn smart, how’d you knock Becca up in the first place?”

Stark rubbed at his face in a not-entirely-successful effort to cover a smirk and an eyeroll. “I’ll explain it when you’re older, honey.”

“I didn’t realize the details of my affair with Becca were of interest to you,” Loki said, tone frosty. Not that he was intending to _share_ them. He waved a hand as if dismissing both Barnes and his concerns. “As it happened, we did have a child together and now we three must deal with that situation. My brother tells that once it gets dark, the park will be showing a family film, open to the public. I had some small wish to be permitted as part of the outing, to spend it with my daughter. Is this something you will still allow, or shall I fetch my brother and return home?”  

Barnes was still breathing hard, like he’d run a race, hands fisted at his side. Loki refrained from rolling his eyes. “It is a _movie_ , Barnes. You won’t have to sit next to me or speak, I promise.”

Barnes glared. “Pompous ass,” he snapped. “‘M gonna go have a smoke. She can stay for the movie.”

Loki reached out and touched Stark’s wrist before he followed his husband. His only chance, Loki thought, for an ally at all. “Anthony, please,” Loki said, soft.

“It really wasn’t you?” he said, dark eyes intent on Loki’s. He sighed, then, and sagged tiredly. “But then, who... It’s been... You see how we could reach that conclusion, don’t you?”

“I would not overplay my hand in such a manner,” Loki said. “I would not have control of the situation. CPS is… a wild card.”

Stark nodded, and looked toward Barnes, who was standing with his back to them, spine almost painfully straight. “I’ll talk to him,” Stark promised. “We all want what’s best for Billie.”

The movie was typical family drivel, a rescued princess and a daring adventurer, happily ever after. Loki had a hard time taking it seriously. Life didn’t work like that. But the child -- his daughter -- seemed to enjoy it. The animal sidekick was, perhaps, her favorite. She launched into a description of other movies, comparing and contrasting. She was quick and clever, talking with his brother, and with her other uncles with animation.

Loki had little to contribute; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a cartoon. Near the end of Billie’s exhaustive rundown of various Disney princesses, she turned on Loki with the suddenness of a pouncing kitten. “Did you love my mom?”

Loki discovered just how fast a child could reach in and tear one’s heart right out. And while he was coping with that unexpected agony, the look in Barnes’ eyes was oddly sympathetic. “I wanted to,” he said, at last. His relationship with Becca had been volatile, exciting. Spontaneous. The first time -- and maybe the last -- that he’d done something truly impulsive, with no thoughts for consequences. Not quite three days, and then he’d opened his mouth and ruined it. “Your mother was special to me. I did not have nearly the time with her that I would have wished, and I will miss her.”

The child -- his daughter, he kept having to remind himself, and that thought was both wonderful and awful and frightening -- suddenly burst into tears and Loki found himself with an armful of warm daughter, patting her back and cupping the back of her head to cradle her against his chest and if he wept with her, no one said _anything_.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning** _again_ for attempted assault/rape (unsuccessful), because Alexander Pierce is a douchenozzle. As always, please read carefully and with regard for your own mental health, and feel free to contact one of the authors for a summary if you need one.

Bucky had just gotten off the phone with _Southern Sunshine_ , a webzine that wanted to do a feature on Dockside, and was headed into the kitchen to grab some lunch when Alexander Pierce put a large, warm hand in the middle of Bucky’s chest and pushed him back into his own office. Pierce locked the door behind them.

“Before you start,” Alex said, voice low and husky. Seductive. “You want to hear me out.”

“Can’t imagine anythin’ you want to say that I need to listen to,” Bucky said, heart already going a mile a minute. What the hell even, why couldn’t Alex just leave him alone? What was he even doing here? Bucky had never seen Alex in Sandbridge outside of the Memorial Day week. He had a big house up in West Side Richmond.

Bucky took a step back; Alex was too close. His mouth was so dry.

“I understand you’re having a little bit of family difficulty,” Alex said, so smooth that for a moment, Bucky had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. “What if I told you I could make all of that go away?”

“Make what go away?”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Alex said, smoothing one finger down Bucky’s cheek and jaw. “I didn’t know about your sister when I was here, last time. Such a burden sometimes, children.”

It was like they were having two entirely different conversations. Alex stepped forward again and sooner than Bucky would have liked, he found himself pressed up against the wall of his office. “Alex, I don’t --”

“You need my help, darling,” Alex said. His hand was in Bucky’s hair now, stroking at the long strands. “You just want all this to go away, right? I can do that for you.”

“It’ll be fine,” Bucky said. “We’re not doing anything wrong--” How did Alex even know about this? A bucket of ice water poured down his spine and Bucky closed his eyes, shuddering. “You. It was _you_ who sicced CPS on us.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean, darling,” Alex said. He was pressing closer now, hand on Bucky’s chest, pushing him back. Alex’s thigh was between Bucky’s legs, hot and muscled. “I’m offering my influence to help you _get rid of_ the problem.”

“Why?” Bucky’s voice came out as a mere whisper. “What did I ever do to you that you hate me so much?”

“Darling, my darling,” Alex said, petting him. Bucky was sick with dread. He didn’t know how to fight this, the fear that rose up inside, threatening to drown him. “Losing you was where everything started to go wrong. I was wrong, I should have seen how good you were. You… you were everything good in my life and I didn’t even realize it.”

Bucky forced himself to look at Alex. “You’re _blaming_ me,” he said. “For Renata. For the divorce. For your boys realizing what an asshole you are. You’re blaming _me_ for that?” His heart was hammering so hard he could feel it in his wrists, behind his ears. “What the hell, Alex?”

“It was _always you,_ ” Alex said, and Bucky wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but Alex was embracing him, holding him, and his arms went around Alex's shoulders, as if Alex were in need of comfort. “I just want it back, darling, like it was. When it was easy. When you loved me.”

Bucky stared at the man in his arms. Did Alex know nothing? Had he been spinning a completely different story in his head than the history that Bucky remembered? “It was never--”

Alex put one finger over Bucky’s lips. “Don’t. Don’t you deny me, not again,” Alex said, and his eyes twinkled, but it was a hard twinkle, cold. Like winter sun on micca. “You come back to me. And it’ll all go away. But if you don’t. If you deny me again, I will make your life empty and meaningless and devoid of everything. _Just like mine_. Child Protective Services is just the tip of what I can bring down on your head. You want to lose your husband? Your kid? Your business? Want to go back to jail? You think I can’t bring everything down around your ears like a house of cards, you want to think really hard about that before you say another goddamn word to me that sounds like _no_.”

Alex’s hand finished traveling down Bucky’s chest, cupped his dick through his jeans. Bucky moaned, scared, angry, not the least bit hard. Alex kissed him like Bucky was succumbing to being seduced. Bucky reached out, groping at his desk until his fingers found cold brass metal. He grabbed the handle of the letter opener.

“That’s it,” Alex whispered, encouraging. His mouth left trails down Bucky’s skin to his throat. “I knew you’d make the right choice. It’s always been you, darling. I--”

His hand moved between Bucky’s legs and Bucky twisted the letter opener in his grasp.

“Get your _fucking_ hands off me!” Bucky snarled. He brought the letter opener down, hard, on Alex’s arm. The tip of the blade skittered down Alex’s skin. Bucky hadn’t realized that tearing skin had a _sound,_ like the faintest whisper of a zipper. Almost lost under Alex’s sudden scream, breathless and pained. Blood welled, dripped down. Everything slowed down, Bucky watched the blood splatter on the floor, two, three large, fat droplets. He stared at the blood and it was Rumlow all over again, the fierce, furious joy and the sickening realization that Bucky was a _monster_.

The letter opener spun like a magician’s trick as it fell from his hand. It clattered on the floor.

“Get… get out of my office,” Bucky said, numbed and stunned.

Alex was whimpering, pained sounds slipping past the gates of his bared teeth. “You’re going to regret that,” he spat.

The sound of a key turning in the lock was loud, echoing against the ringing in Bucky’s ears, and then the door opened. Tony’s eyes flicked around the room, taking in details: Alex clutching at his arm, blood dripping through his fingers, the letter opener on the floor and the spatter of blood there, Bucky’s position against the desk. Bucky’s face, though god only knew what Tony saw there. “You okay, honey?”

“He won’t be,” Alex said, drawing himself up. He kept his bleeding arm close to his chest, smearing crimson over his shirt. “Neither of you will be. You think you’re hurting now, you haven’t even begun to see where the bottom is. You’ll be crawling for so long you’re going to forget what daylight even looks like. This isn’t over, this isn’t close to over.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, he didn’t have any words. He stared at his own hands. What… what… “What did I do?”

“From the looks of it,” Tony said, “you defended yourself from an unwanted advance.” He drew closer, offered a hand for Bucky to take. “Senator, this _is_ over. You’re not welcome at this establishment any more. Please leave.”

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Alex said. “You can expect to hear from my lawyers about this… _unprovoked_ attack. And that’s just the start --”

“Oh _please_ send me your lawyers,” Tony said, terrifyingly happy. “I have lawyers, too. They can have a playdate. Make sure yours bring all their best toys, and mine will bring a movie. How about the security footage from the last half hour?” He jerked his chin toward the tiny, discreet camera they’d installed when they redecorated the office. “My lawyer’s been dying for something really meaty to sink her teeth into -- a real up-and-comer, just like you were, once. You’d make a _lovely_ addition to her trophy wall.”

Blood _smelled_. Bucky remembered that from the deer he’d gutted, from the headwound that had left Brock dizzy and snarling curses at Bucky in an alley. Raw and coppery, slick and somehow the air was thick with it. “Just go, Alex,” Bucky said. “Just let it be over. Call off your bullyboy. Think about your daughter. She... She doesn’t need to go through this. Please Alex, just let it be over.”

Alex didn’t agree, but he did leave, and that was going to have to be enough. Bucky staggered forward a step, touched Tony’s hand. Fingers locked and shaking around Tony’s wrist.

“Is he gone?” Bucky managed. His tongue felt heavy, almost frozen in his mouth. Breathing was an effort.

“He’s gone.” Tony’s forehead was wrinkled with worry now, his eyes locked on Bucky’s. “Baby, what-- what do you need?”

 _You._ Fuck, why… He could barely look up. His gaze kept returning to the splatter of blood on the floor. The rim of rust on the letter opener. “Oh, god,” he said, voice strangled with grief. “I’m sorry, Tony, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, sweetheart, no, no, no, you have _nothing_ to be sorry for,” Tony said. “He’s the one who should be sorry. He won’t, because he’s a fucking psychopath, but it definitely shouldn’t be you.”

“I… Christ, Tony, why are you still _with_ me?” Bucky burst out. He couldn’t stop staring at the blood; he’d hurt people and Tony had been hurt, so many times. How could he even stand it, being in the same room with someone like Bucky? Bucky was a _monster_. How could he even _look_ at Bucky, ever again? Everything hurt. His chest burned for air. Alex was right, he was right. Bucky was going to lose _everything_ and he deserved to.

The strength went out of his legs.

“Whoa!” Tony tried to catch him and only barely managed to keep them both off the floor. “Baby, come on, sit down here, tell me where this is coming from. Why wouldn’t I be with you? I love you.”

He didn’t want to answer that, didn’t want Tony to think about what Bucky was, what he was capable of doing. But Tony deserved better than that, deserved so much better. “Look at me,” he said. “Look what I’ve _done_. Tony… Tony, this is all my fault.”

“Well, _that’s_ bullshit,” Tony said. “This is Alexander Pierce’s fault, every bit of it. He took advantage of you when you were just a kid, and this is all just... ripples. But it’s _him_ , baby, not you, who’s to blame.”

Tony had to go, he _had_ to. “I stabbed him.” It was strange that his hands were clean. If it wasn’t for the blood on the floor, it would look like nothing ever happened, but Bucky already knew that there were some things you could never undo, some acts that you could never be sorry enough for. And he wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t. He wasn’t a monster because he’d done it, he was a monster because he was _glad_ that he’d done it.

“Well, thank god for that,” Tony said. “He was trying to goddamn _rape_ you, that little scratch you gave him is the _least_ of what he deserves.”

Tony broke up in the shimmer of tears, a hundred tiny versions of him. “I hurt someone. I hurt someone _again_. Tony. You have _every reason_ to be scared of me.” Tony had left him, once, because of it. And Tony should go, he should take Billie and get away. _Oh, god_.

“Oh my god, is _that_ what this is?” Warm hands cupped Bucky’s face and Tony brushed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “You hurt him in self-defense, sweetheart, that’s... I’m not scared of that. He was trying to hurt you so much worse. And I know it bothers you, I know, baby. But you’re not going to hurt _me_. You’re not. You’ve only ever hurt anyone in defense. Hell, you have to be wound up so tight it hurts just to get you to yell at me when we’re fighting. Anyway, what kind of asshole would I be if I dumped you for defending yourself, hm? Nat would hunt me down and stab me with a spoon.”

Bucky wanted to explain it, Tony wasn’t listening, he _wasn’t_. Like a blanket of rage, the urge to be violent had dropped on him, he never planned it. It just… just _happened_. Maybe it needed a certain trigger. Bucky tipped his head, chasing the thought. It was that fear, that _sickening_ fear… for Steve. For Kurt. For himself.

Tony… Tony had never, ever made Bucky afraid. Not like that. _Never_ like that. It was like a realization, sending silver shivers up his spine. He stared at Tony. God, Bucky was an idiot. “What the hell even am I thinking?” he asked. He didn’t expect an answer. “Oh, _Tony_.” He didn’t know how to put it in words, he sounded like a lunatic even inside his own damn skull. Trying to push him away when Tony was the best part of Bucky’s life? Might as well do Alex’s work for him. No, no, and no. “Oh, God, I… I’m stupid. I love you. Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tony promised. “You’re not stupid, you’re traumatized.” He pulled Bucky in and kissed him, light and warm. “I love you, too, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

 _Traumatized_. Bucky almost snorted. Big Jim would have had a lot of ugly words for Bucky, letting himself get soft, letting-- Bucky gasped, hard. His chest ached. _You don’t talk bad about the dead._ You don’t… Bucky was panting for breath in Tony’s arms. Jesus, was it… “Oh, _Christ_ , baby,” he managed. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe I am.” That was a big admission. Tony’d been pushing him, careful and quiet, to talk to the family counselor. They’d taken Billie a few times, to help her deal with grief and the trauma of the move.

Maybe it was time. He swallowed, his mouth rough and dry and sour. “Maybe I need some help with this,” he confessed, burying his face against Tony’s chest, brutally ashamed of himself.

Tony tightened his hold, pulling Bucky tight against him. “Okay,” he breathed. “We’ll make that happen. You’re going to be okay, baby, I promise.”

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly smut (including what might be considered under-negotiated kink) but starts out with Bucky and Tony talking about Bucky's therapy appointment and some of the shocking realizations that Bucky is coming to, just from that one session. (Really, they shouldn't be so shocking, but he's been burying his head in the sand for years now!) If you want to skip the smut, stop reading where Bucky chases Tony up the stairs.
> 
> As always, feel free to yell at us on tumblr is you need a chapter summary before getting started.

Bucky was still uncomfortable enough in his own skin to yield to letting Tony drive without complaint. He didn’t even loop his hand through the chicken-bar over the window; Tony’s tendency to tailgate like a motherfucker didn’t usually lend to Bucky being relaxed as a passenger. _Face it, Barnes_ , he thought, _you are a control freak._

The therapist, Dr. Michaelsson, had been calm, rather matter of fact, and unexpectedly practical, which had helped Bucky to relax, a bit. They’d gone over, very briefly, what brought Bucky in for therapy, which had sidetracked the conversation. When Michaelsson asked what Bucky expected from therapy, Bucky’d decided to go ahead and be honest. “Don’t expect nothin’,” he had said. “M’ dad always said therapy was a waste of time an’ money. Useless --”

“Well,” Michaelsson said, “I have heard that before, Mr. Barnes. Tell me, how did your father feel about you being gay? We might want to consider the idea that his views were not precisely the most useful mindset.”

And they’d ended up mostly talking about Big Jim, where Bucky had actually expected to be grilled about Alex. He’d been bracing himself to try to talk about that for the last few days and then to be able to just only have it be an aside -- my ex and I had a rather violent confrontation recently that’s giving me nightmares -- was almost a relief. Bucky might have considered the whole session to be not-so-bad except that, looking back on what he had said…

_You don’t speak ill of the dead._

Guilt chewed at him and he stared out the windshield, not even paying attention.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Tony said, whipping around a slow driver with out-of-state plates. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said. “What happens when you find out that one of the things you’ve based your whole life on… ain’t what you thought it was? Like, how do you even deal with that?”

Tony hummed thoughtfully, his quiet tone utterly at odds with his aggressive driving. “I guess it depends what it is, and how much it’s going to change how you go forward. Find someone who can help you re-orient, that helps.” He flashed Bucky a quick smile. “You guys -- you and Nat and Steve -- helped me with that.”

“I guess I already am,” Bucky said, thoughtfully. “Jus’ a matter of letting it go, now. I never let what Dad thought… change anything. Bein’ All-star pitcher never changed who I wanted. Who I loved. But… I dunno, I always felt bad, that I was lettin’ him down. We’ve… you an’ me, we’ve already been changing that. Doc thinks if I can let go of that guilt, it’ll ease up some of the… tension? Pain I’ve been in? I dunno. Feel bad about _that_ , too. Like, you don’t speak ill of the dead, you just… _you don’t do that_.”

“Doesn’t have to be speaking ill, though,” Tony said, “to say you disagreed. I mean, if you have to say they were _right_ just because they’re gone, that’s not cool. But you can say, _I loved him and I think he was trying to do right by me, but he was wrong about this_.”

Bucky shook his head, slow. “I guess. I never… I couldn’t be straight, not like he wanted. I didn’t even know how to try. Th’ other stuff, that was easy. Playin’ baseball and football. Wasn’t bad. I liked it. Like doing things physical like that. Worst thing in that was Steve, really. Poor kid; he decided that if I was tryin’ so hard to be straight, he ought to be able to switch things up, try and be gay. He ever tell you about that? We… sort of dated. A bit. It was awful.”

“No!” Tony laughed a little, then made a face. “That must’ve been... oh god, so awkward.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky said. “An’ he was all still skinny and bony and short; I’d been playin’ linebacker that year, so… and a good fourteen inches taller than him, I’d say. He hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet. That was terrible when it did hit; he used to cry with growin’ pains, he grew so fast. But, yeah, he was sittin’ in my lap and tried to kiss me. I had to put a stop to it, he… he wanted to you know, _want to_ , and it was just. Not happening. He couldn’t be gay for me, even as good friends as we were. It was sweet of him, you know, but I think it proved to me that… that ain’t something anyone can _change_.”

Tony nodded. “I dunno, babe, you grew up wanting to make your dad happy, and what I did, mostly, was deliberately piss mine off. Either way, they’re gone, and we have to decide what to do with all the baggage they left behind. But it’s not a lump sum. You can keep some and toss others.”

Bucky was astonished when Tony pulled into the parking lot of Dockside. If someone had pointed a gun at his head, he couldn’t have reasonably given a recounting of the drive back. But the morning had already seemed like a full day. Mentally, he was done for. He sat in the truck for a few seconds, staring up at the restaurant that had been his whole life, somehow. For a moment, he thought perhaps he’d resent it, the way that Dr. Michaelsson had pointed out that Bucky’s father might have been wrong, and that Bucky might be wrong, looking at his life through someone else’s lens.

But he didn’t. He still loved it. It was still home.

And he must have sat there longer than he anticipated, because Tony opened the door for him, a rueful grin on his mouth. “You’ll turn me into a southern gentleman, eventually?” Tony suggested, waving him out.

“Just a veneer,” Bucky said. “You’ll always be a yankee underneath. In fact, you are a _damn_ yankee.”

“And yet, you married me anyway.” Tony checked the time on his phone. “Loki’s not bringing Billie home until after lunch,” he said. “We’ve got a couple of hours if you want to just chill and process or whatever.”

“My marryin’ you is what made you a damn yankee,” Bucky pointed out. He stepped closer into Tony’s personal space. “You came down here, and now you won’t _leave_.” He slid one hand around Tony’s waist, resting his fingers on Tony’s belt, feeling the warm skin just below his tee. “Give you another decade or so, an’ maybe you’ll work your way up t’ being a southern sympathizer.”

“Oh, now you’re looking for _sympathy_ ,” Tony said. He leaned into Bucky, sliding his arms up around Bucky’s neck.

“Little southern comfort,” Buck suggested. He got a hand under Tony’s tee and drew a little circle on his side, teasing. “After lunch, hmmm. Care to work up an appetite with me, Mistah Stark-Barnes?” He put some effort into his accent, sounding more like Nat pretending to be southern.

Tony snorted a laugh. “Why, Mr. Barnes-Stark, are you propositioning me? While the sun is up? And we’re standing _outside_? How very scandalous of you.”

For just a moment, Bucky entertained the notion, but-- “Rather make you scream than do quick, quiet, and dirty in the back of my truck,” he said, but still pushed Tony against the side of the vehicle, nudging Tony’s head back to get at his neck and nipped the join, right at the shoulder. He couldn’t help it; whenever Tony’s body was pressed against his, Bucky rolled his hips, wanting that friction and heat.

Tony shivered at the contact, and rocked into the pressure. “You want to make it into the house, you need to stop that,” he panted.

Bucky pulled back, slow, feeling the heat swirl between them. He paused, wanting to take his fill of Tony’s mouth. No one kissed like Tony did, all sweet wringing sensation and aching fire, but once Bucky succumbed to that mouth, he was going to take and take until he couldn’t stop. His lips brushed over the very tip of Tony’s nose. “All right, babe,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”

Tony twisted past, letting his body drag across Bucky’s, and headed for the house. He paused, a couple of stairs up, and glanced back, as if making sure that Bucky was right behind him, eyes fixed on Tony’s gorgeous ass. As if Bucky would ever be anywhere else when Tony was going up stairs. Tony grinned and took the rest of the stairs a careful two at a time, showing off the flex of muscle in his thighs.

God, it was a wonder Bucky ever walked like a normal man. _Hnnnnng_. He grabbed the rail and launched himself up the stairs after Tony. Got an arm around him before he’d even fumbled out his keys. Stuck one hand into Tony’s pocket, groping around, searching for the keychain, with quite a bit more effort than strictly required, bracketing Tony up against the door. His fingers brushed against the side of Tony’s dick through the thinner material of his pocket. “Well, _that’s_ not th’ key,” Bucky said, stroking again.

“You sure?” Tony asked, leaning back into Bucky’s body. “Sure feels like it’s opening _something_. Better check again.”

“Maybe it’s in the _other_ pocket,” Bucky suggested, sliding his right hand in, trapping Tony against him, checking, very thoroughly. Playing a little pocket-pool, getting Tony wound up, nice and tight, until Tony was rocking back against him, keys completely forgotten.

“Ohgod,” Tony rasped, tipping his head back and bracing his hand against the door frame. “You planning to make me shoot off right here?”

“Lookit that,” Bucky said, taking his hand out of Tony’s pocket and plucking the keys from Tony’s hand. “You had ‘em the whole time.” He flicked through the ring one handed, got to the house key and took his time sliding the key into the lock, still keeping his other hand in Tony’s pocket. God, it did things to him, seeing Tony so needy and wanting. Made him proud and melty at the same time, smug and eager. A twist of wanting lanced through his gut as Tony moaned. He turned the key.

Tony all but kicked through the door, dragging Bucky inside by the wrist. “Get in here, you menace,” he growled. He tugged Bucky’s shirt free of his jeans and started working it upward, hands warm and calloused against Bucky’s skin.

“You seem a little wound up, baby,” Bucky teased, giving in to the temptation of Tony’s mouth, flicking his tongue over Tony’s bottom lip. He cupped Tony’s jaw, held him right where Bucky wanted him, dropping sweet, gentle kisses over Tony’s mouth, pulling back every time Tony tried to deepen the kisses. The longer it went on, the wilder Bucky felt; control slipping his leash until he finally lost it and took possession of Tony’s mouth, groaning against the slick, velvet feel. “Oh god, Tony… wanna give you everything, want… want…” Before he could even finish his thought, Tony had his arms around Bucky’s neck, dragging him down, capturing his mouth with take-no-prisoners enthusiasm. Bucky surrendered, letting Tony push him back to the sofa, their lips barely separating.

“God, you feel so good,” Tony groaned, straddling Bucky’s hips and rocking against him, sweet and unbearable friction. He struggled with the button on Bucky’s jeans, barely able to stop moving to get a decent grip on the cloth. “Every time, every _god damn_ time, it’s like I can’t even believe it’s real. Have to see, have to _touch_ you...” He slid his hands up Bucky’s stomach and chest, pulling the shirt off and throwing it on the floor, ducking to flick his tongue over a nipple, to drag his teeth over it until Bucky was moaning. “Taste you, mm...”

Tempting as it was to sprawl on the sofa and let Tony debauch him until Bucky was reeling and dizzy with it, Bucky wanted to get his hands on his husband. He tugged at the base of Tony’s tee, pulling it up slow. “Arms up,” he said, light, and when Tony complied, Bucky twisted the material, twining Tony’s arms in the soft fabric, keeping him pinned. Just his mouth and nose were visible under the collar. Bucky leaned forward, slow, licked at Tony’s bottom lip until his mouth dropped open. “I got you, baby.”

Tony whined deep in his throat, but didn’t struggle against the makeshift restraint. “Bucky, _god_ ,” he breathed. He willingly let Bucky plunder his mouth, panting when Bucky finally drew back for breath. “God, what you do to me...”

“ _Everything_ ,” Bucky murmured, almost a plea. “Anything.” He traced down Tony’s chest, lipping at the flat muscle there, then curled his tongue around one perfect nipple, teasing the skin there as it puckered under his lips. Tony writhed, his hips moving restlessly, grinding down on Bucky’s lap. “Can’t never decide what’s better… wanting you, or taking you.” He traced down Tony’s chest and over his belly with his free hand, comparing that pale skin there to Bucky’s arm, summer tanned.  

Tony panted and whimpered. “Oh, fuck, you’re going to kill me,” he said, grinding down even harder. “Bucky, _please_...”

That might not have been the wisest tactic for Tony -- or maybe it was _exactly_ what he wanted -- since an instant later, Bucky had him on his back, under Bucky. The tee shirt vanished, tossed on the floor and Bucky was working his jeans off as fast as he could manage. Tony wriggled under him, humming happily. They struggled with clothing a little longer before finally getting all the way naked and rubbing together, sweet, delicious friction. Tony’s hands were everywhere, stroking and teasing, as if trying to prove something. As if Bucky wasn’t already weak with wanting, breathless with need.   

Tony rocked up against Bucky’s body, sliding their cocks together. “Tell me we’ve got stuff stashed out here somewhere,” he grated. “It’s been way too long since you’ve been in me, I need--”

Bucky groaned, rubbing down, getting a thigh between Tony’s legs and spreading him. He retreated to Tony’s mouth, kissing him as if his life depended on it, tongue sliding in and licking at the soft inside of Tony’s cheek. “I… yeah, yeah, in my wallet, baby, can you… can you reach?” He couldn’t take his hands off Tony, not even for a second, wanting that smooth skin. He got a hand under Tony’s ass, squeezed that perfect cheek.

“Uh-huh...” Tony twisted, snagged Bucky’s discarded pants with one finger, and dragged them closer so he could fish the wallet out of the pocket. He didn’t bother handing it over, just unfolded it and opened it up. “Lube _and_ a condom,” he said, a satisfied purr. “I do love a man who comes prepared. Or is that prepared to come...?”

Bucky scrunched his nose at the joke. “Oh, that was _terrible_ ,” he protested, a giggle working its way past his teeth anyway, that turned into a shivering groan as the laughter moved his body against Tony’s in new and interesting ways. Tony was still smirking by the time Bucky got himself back under control. _Totally going to wipe that look off your face_ , he thought. He licked the palm of his hand, then took Tony’s cock in hand and cupped it, twisting with light friction.  

Tony’s breath caught and he thrust up into the touch, already chasing _faster_ and _harder_ and _more_. “Oh, god, oh... _Nnnng_.” He grabbed Bucky’s ass with both hands and tried to pull Bucky down against him, making a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Okay, okay,” he begged, “no more bad jokes, just...”

Bucky got the lube packet, slit the top open with his teeth. “What, Tony, what is it you want, baby?” He wet his fingertips with the thick, slippery goo. Nudged Tony’s knee aside to get in between his legs. “This?” Bucky circled Tony’s hole with one slicked finger, teasing at the muscle, rubbing against the crease.

“God, yes,” Tony sighed. “Bucky, honey, _god_... More, give me more.” He lifted his head enough to claim a kiss, then dragged his lips down Bucky’s neck, leaving a sharp bite at the meat of his shoulder.

Bucky hissed, pushing against Tony’s teeth, trying to be gentle. “You are so fucking gorgeous,” Bucky swore. He breached the entrance to Tony’s body with one finger, using the edge of his thumb to tease at the rim, doing it slow watching each twist and shift of Tony’s expression as he worked him open, got him ready. It never failed to astonish him, how much Tony wanted. Tony, who could have had anything, everything, and here he still was, in Bucky’s arms. Bucky had to duck his head, hide his face in the curve of Tony’s throat until the need calmed a little.

He tested the muscle, the tight squeeze. Lubed his fingers again and stretched Tony until he worked a second finger in. “I got you, baby,” he said, voice shaking with desire. “So sweet. Gonna make you feel good, you just let me, let me in.” He turned his wrist, slow, fingertip seeking that sensitive spot, deep inside. Rubbed at it, pressing a little harder as Tony cried out.

“You got me,” Tony agreed, voice shaky with desperation. “All of me, I’m yours, honey, all yours. Want you in me, deep, want to feel you in me, want-- _Aahhh_ , fuck, yes, that, there... More now, give it to me, I need you...”

Bucky shivered. Tony was open enough, but he kept teasing for a bit longer, just to watch Tony whimper and squirm, so fucking gorgeous, so beautiful the way he moved. Finally, he pulled his fingers back, and out. Sat back on the sofa and unwrapped the condom. Got it on and slicked himself up while Tony lay there, panting for breath. “Come on, baby,” Bucky said, patting his thighs once. He helped Tony shift until he was spread over Bucky’s lap, facing away. His back curved in a lovely arc, knees tucked against Bucky’s hips.

“Lemme know if this is too tight, honey,” Bucky said. He shifted, got a hand between them and lined himself up. He took it slow, pressed in just a little. Added more lube.

Tony’s breath went shallow and he tucked his head down, and he hissed a little as Bucky worked in, offering gasped instructions. “Wait wait wait that’s-- ohhh, okay, yeah, come on, baby, that’s perfect. Sssstop for a sec, lemme... Nn. Tight, been too long, it’s-- Ahhh there we go, okay, deeper now, give me...” It was torture, every time Bucky stopped moving to let Tony adjust, and it was perfection, looking down at him, flushed and sweating and needy. By the time he was fully seated, Bucky was shaking from the effort of restraining himself, and half the words coming from Tony’s mouth were nonsense. “Oh god it’s like... Nnnng, fuck me now, baby, I’m good, I’m ready, I _need it_ \--”

_So tight._ Bucky groaned, shifted his hips. He rocked them together, slow, keeping one hand on Tony’s shoulder to support him, hold him up and pull him back at the same time. The other hand traced down Tony’s side, teased over the perfect globes of his ass, then dipped around Tony’s hip. Bucky ran a finger down the side of Tony’s cock, the barest, feather-light touch. The angle was a little awkward, he couldn’t do a long, deep slide, but the short, rocking thrusts were forcing deep groans and whines out of Tony’s throat. Bucky shifted faster, those tiny strokes were the best kind of agony, a sustained tease.

Tony squirmed and writhed, trying to get Bucky deeper, or more friction on his cock, each breath a soft whine of desperation. “Bucky. Bucky, honey, baby, oh fuck oh god oh... please, please please _please_...” He reached up, caught Bucky’s wrist and curled his fingers around it, hanging on as if his life depended on it. “Oh god, please.”

Tony’s back was slick with sweat, the light glimmering off the muscles. Bucky couldn’t resist, traced the line of Tony’s spine with his finger, then down to tease the the cleft of his buttocks. When Tony whimpered, tried to urge Bucky faster, Bucky smacked his ass, sharp and quick, the sound harder than the actual blow. Which was… oh, _god_. Bucky could feel the vibration of that deep inside Tony’s body and he almost lost his load right then at how good that felt. “Oh, sweet _Christ_.” He rubbed his fingers light over the red mark, soothing it.

Tony made a sound, a laugh or maybe a sob. “Jesus, that’s-- You like that, sweetheart? I can _feel_ you getting harder. Do that again, make me feel you inside and out for _hours_...”

Bucky went boneless under Tony for just a moment, need so white hot that he couldn’t breathe. “...god…” He gasped for air like breathing was a thing he could wrestle into submission. “You _tell me_ if I hurt you, babe,” he cautioned, then arched up, rolling his hips slow and round, pressing into Tony, harder, deeper. At the apex of his circle, he bought his hand down against Tony’s ass, a sharp, stinging slap that left a dull echo in the air. His palm tingled and his dick jolted at the movement Tony’s body made.

Tony gasped and groaned and shuddered. “Doesn’t hurt,” he said. “Oh, god, it feels like, like fire, the best kind of fire, that instant right before you come, _god_.” He rolled his hips a little, pushing, testing. “ _Christ_. I’m going to come if you keep that up.”

Bucky quaked, then moved again, slow and sensual, short thrusts, waiting until Tony’s body relaxed again, waiting… when Tony stopped clenching down, prepped for Bucky’s hand, he swung again, the mark just to one side of the first, leaving a brilliant pink smudge against Tony’s skin.

He wanted to do this all day, the subtle, carnal movements, the way Tony clenched hard around Bucky’s dick, the eager sounds coming out of Tony’s throat. He couldn’t. He was too close, wanted too much. “Lean forward, babe,” Bucky urged him. “Get a hand on the table.” _God, now, Tony, please._ The angle changed again as Tony went nearly limp across his lap, then shoved back, _hard_ , using the table as balance.

An eager, needy cry was torn out of his throat as Bucky realized he’d put all the control in Tony’s hands. Tony wasn’t interested in slow or subtle or sensual. He used the leverage of the table to fuck backward onto Bucky’s dick, setting a punishing rhythm that had Bucky trembling and shaking as he tried desperately to match. Tony knew exactly what he was doing, relentlessly stroking himself against Bucky. His muscles clenched rhythmically, steady pulses that set Bucky’s blood on fire. Bucky threw his head back, brought his hand down one last time on Tony’s ass. The deep vibration was too much, he couldn’t hold it any longer. “Tony, Tony, Tony…” Bucky cried his name with deep, rasping breaths. Great tremors shifted through him as he blissed out on sensation, reaching some impossible height of pleasure.

Tony shouted and came, clenching down hard. Every muscle in his back and shoulders went taut and tense, held for a long, shuddering moment, and then relaxed with a hoarse sigh. “Oh, _god_.”

Bucky shuddered, hands squeezing down on Tony’s hips as he thrust through his aftershocks. Each jolt of his hips set Tony off more, until they were both boneless and panting for breath. “Mmmmmm,” Bucky mumbled, limply patting Tony’s thigh. He gazed down, admiring the pattern of pink-peach handprints across Tony’s ass. “That’s nice.” He poked the center of one mark, watching the skin whiten, then rush red as the blood flowed in. “You… you liked it?”

Tony twitched, but before Bucky could interpret it as a flinch, pushed back into the touch like Muffin demanding to be petted. “That may be understating it, babe,” he said. “Or did you miss how I went off _untouched_ and shot halfway across the damn room?” He sounded unbearably smug.

“I'm very impressed,” Bucky said, not even kidding. “Jus’ wanna make sure. Damn, that was something else.” He wasn't sure what else, entirely. He was pretty sure there were descriptive phrases for it, but he'd pretty much just fucked his brain right out and he wasn't coming up with any. “I love you, baby. So much.”

“Love you, too.” Tony pushed off the table and leaned back against Bucky’s chest, still breathing hard. “And that was amazing.” He was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “And we should probably clean that up before it stains and we have to answer more awkward questions.”

“Right,” Bucky agreed. “See how I am leaping to my feet to clean. Very diligent. Yep.”


	22. Chapter 22

“And when storytime is done, you’re going to go where?” Tony prompted.

Billie pointed toward the cluster of study tables that had been set out for older students, though Tony got the distinct impression she was suppressing an eye-roll. “Get a book and wait over there.”

“Right,” Tony agreed. He didn’t think their chat with Loki would fill the entire duration of the library’s story hour, but it was good to have contingency plans in place. There was always the chance that they’d get into a shouting match _anyway_ and get kicked out, after all. Even with a desire to make peace on all sides, Loki was still kind of an ass.

Tony dropped a kiss on top of Billie’s head and nudged her in the direction of the gathering kids, then turned back to the grown-up section of the library, more subdued in both appearance and noise level, where Bucky had staked out a cluster of reading chairs to wait for Loki.

Bucky’d pulled a couple of books off the shelves and was thumbing through a large book on classic art prints. “Used to do this all th’ time with Steve, when he was tryin’ to be an artist. He’d study ‘em for a while and try to make copies.” He flipped a few pages and stopped on a Monet. “He did a rendition of this one, once.” He pointed to the work, a woman in a pale pink dress sitting in a field of green. “I wonder if he still has it; he got Becca to pose for him.”

“He any good?” Tony asked curiously, slipping into the chair next to his husband. “I’ve seen some of his drawings--” Tony had one of them, a caricature of Bucky, framed on the wall. “--but the only time I’ve ever seen him paint is when the signs need to be touched up.”

“Not enough to get a scholarship offer,” Bucky said. “Art school’s expensive. The cooking school was cheaper, so he went with that, career-wise. He still sketches sometimes, but I don’t know that he’s done any painting in years.”

Loki walked into the library then, like he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. He was a bit out of place in one of his flashy bar-owner suits, the sort that looked very good under the low lighting, and a little loud and obnoxious under sunlight. He consulted a pocket watch, and then stopped near the door to the children’s library. He stood there for a long moment, just watching the reading circle.

“Uggggh,” Tony complained _sotto voce_ , “are we really considering sharing our child with a man who unironically carries a pocket watch?”

“How do you ironically carry a pocket watch?” Bucky asked. He flipped another page in the art book.

“I’m not sure, but however it is, he’s not doing it.”

Bucky took a deep breath and blew it out, watching Loki over the edge of the art book. “Look at the way he’s looking at her, and tell me we have the right to tell him no.”

“Baby, if I didn’t agree with you, I wouldn’t be here,” Tony pointed out. “Doesn’t mean I can’t harbor some reservations.” He waited for Loki to look around and waved.

“I have _a lot_ of reservations,” Bucky muttered. He closed the book and put it aside as Loki strolled over.

“Stark,” Loki said, then, “Barnes. This is so… quiet and peaceful. I don’t know that I’ve actually set foot inside a library since I left school.”

“It was suggested by a friend,” Tony said mildly. “Neutral ground. Something to keep Billie occupied while we chat, and a built-in deterrent to shouting.” He grinned, a little self-consciously, and waved at the remaining chairs. “Good place for a talk. Have a seat. We thought it’d be good to see how much of this we can settle without resorting to the headache of legal interference.”

“Or the headache of punching one’s way out of trouble,” Loki said, “as my brother is wont to do. I appreciate your restraint.” Loki rubbed at his chin with long fingers. “I’ve never made a bargain for a life. How do we go about this, state what is the most we believe we are reasonably entitled to and argue from there?”

Bucky didn’t bother to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “Why don’t we start with a common goal -- we all want what’s best for Billie, right?”

“While I haven’t experienced it directly,” Loki said, “I understand that children are adaptable. She’s not so old as to be set in her ways. So, what’s best for her is adequate education, shelter, love and discipline, provisions for her interests, and intelligent friends. Are we in accord, thus far?”

“I think so, more or less,” Tony said. “More concerned that her friends are _kind_ than _intelligent_ , but, y’know, in broad strokes, sure.”

Loki shrugged his shoulders delicately. “They are often the same; the more narrow-minded and small a person, the more prone, I have noticed, they are to taunting those weaker. Perhaps your experiences are different. My research indicates that she will have to remain in one school system, thus one of us will have primary custody. Unless we decide to remove her from the public system and arrange for tutors, which is certainly well within my means.”

Bucky opened his mouth to say something, his arm jerking, then he subsided. “She still needs friends.”

Tony nodded. “If we decide that public school isn’t serving her well, we can consider some local private schools, but I’d rather not go all the way to private tutors. She’s a very social kid; being around other kids makes her happy.” He considered briefly. “Well, usually.”

Loki nodded slowly. “It does seem we have one issue which we have not discussed at all; Billie will be, in any way we look at the situation, the heiress to a fairly sizable empire.” He sat back to look at Tony, green eyes sharp with interest. “You may have the rest of the city fooled with your casual upgrades and your aging pickup truck, but it takes no great effort to put it together from the gossips up north. I know who you are.”

Tony sighed. “Well, the Odinsons aren’t strictly local. I guess that was going to come out eventually. I’m not part of the company anymore. I was bought out. So she’ll inherit a healthy portfolio from us, but not much more.”

“Still, quite a bit more than your average… local,” Loki pointed out. “She will, or should, be raised to that end; she’ll want to be prepared. If the Odinsons claim her as our own, less attention will be drawn to you, in those matters.”

Bucky rubbed at his forehead. “Are you ever not a snob?”

Loki didn’t roll his eyes, Tony noticed. But the way he tilted his head, Tony rather suspected he _wanted_ to. “Wealth is an advantage,” he said. “Which she will acquire in abundance, unless something should change dramatically. I suppose, eventually, I might marry and father more children, but even in such a case, she will still inherit a… _healthy portfolio._ She should know how to use it well.”

“Not disagreeing with that,” Tony said, squeezing Bucky’s knee gently. “But I’m pretty sure every child, of every station, will need to learn how to manage their money. Billie’s lessons will just be of a different nature.”

“We are, then, mostly in accord with what is best, for Billie,” Loki said. “So, I shall place on the table what I would like, and what I believe is reasonable, and you shall tell me what you think of it.” Loki took a deep breath. “I should, first of all, like an alteration to her birth certificate that lists me as father. I will not, however, insist that she take on our surname, unless that is something she wishes to do, _on her own_ , when she is old enough to understand what that means. In the same manner, if she chooses, she can decide if she wants to be a Barnes-Stark, or to remain a Barnes alone. I trust that is not unreasonable.”

Bucky made a grumbling sound in his throat. “If Billie wants to change her name, that’s her business,” he summed up. “I c’n live with that.”

Tony nodded. “And the certificate change is reasonable, as well. You’ve already got the medical confirmation and she already _knows_ , so that’s a minor paperwork issue.” He grinned, feeling his stomach twist. “So much for the soft pitches.”

“You greatly mistake me, I’m afraid,” Loki said. His jaw twisted, a little bitter. “For reasons I don’t know, and will likely never discover, Rebecca did not want me as a part of our child’s life. It’s galling and _infuriating_ , but that fact exists--”

“-- one hundred percent Becca Barnes,” Bucky muttered.

“And,” Loki said, raising his voice just a little bit, loftily ignoring Bucky, “I do not wish my first act as parent to be to throw over everything that was of value to my daughter’s mother. If you can agree to a few _reasonable_ requests, I will not challenge you for primary custody.”

Tony had to blink in surprise for a moment, and replay the words in his head until they made sense. “...Go on.”

“One weekend a month. I will arrange my schedule, that we might do… whatever father and daughter things are. I admit to not really knowing. My own father was somewhat less than nurturing, until he realized he’d get no heir from Thor. At which point I was quite a bit older than Billie is now.” Loki paused as if to marshal his words. “Two weeks in the summer. They need not be consecutive. Alternating Yule, or perhaps the families might merge, for the holidays, if you wish it. And one Wednesday, per month. My father… we have family dinner every Wednesday. In thirty years, I think I have only missed two. I should like Billie to get to know the rest of her extended family.”

That sounded... extremely reasonable, actually. Far, far more reasonable than what Tony and Bucky had feared, when they’d discussed it; Much less than they had agreed they would willingly (if grudgingly) concede. He looked over and saw that same stunned look on Bucky’s face. “I think that’s... acceptable?” He cocked his head at Bucky.

“Yeah, I… yeah,” Bucky stammered out, then, perhaps stupidly, added, “Why?”

“Perhaps you’re unfamiliar with my line of work,” Loki said. “You have a restaurant, and you know the occasional unruly customer. I own _bars_. I live above one. It is no place for a child to grow up. I should know. I did it. You have _pets_. And a wide social circle. These are things I believe would be best for her to have in abundance. If she remains primarily in your care, as well, it will limit my father’s access to her, and that is best, I believe, for everyone involved. Especially her.”

Tony knew something about fathers who shouldn’t be allowed near children. “If there’s danger to her,” he said, reminding himself that it was a library, that he couldn’t yell, “we can’t in good faith allow her to see him at all.”

Loki blinked several times, slow, like he was a cat, leaning back in his chair. His entire body language changed. The man was uncanny. “Only in danger of being bored to death, or finding herself stuffed full of lutefisk. Or perhaps given a stock portfolio and told to make something of it. Father is peculiar and overbearing, but the greatest danger he presents to her is stepping on her foot because he cannot see around his ridiculous beard.”

Tony grimaced inwardly; he really should learn to stop jumping straight to an assumption of abuse. Of course Loki wouldn’t willingly put Billie in the path of someone like Howard. Loki was an ass, but not _that_ much of a dick. “Right. Okay.” He shook his head, clearing it, then scrubbed at his face. “That all sounds... reasonable. Um. As guardians of record, you’ll need to inform us if you want to travel with her at all. We will keep you informed if we go anywhere, as well.” He tried to remember all the points they’d gone over with Jenn.

“Generally acting like a responsible adult,” Loki said. “I believe that can be arranged on my side.”

Bucky muttered something in Russian, quick and choppy, like dicing onions. Tony didn’t catch all of it, but he had to turn a laugh into a cough, because he was pretty sure Bucky had just called Loki an annoying cabbage.

“All right, then,” Tony said. “We seem to be in agreement. We’ll get our legal people to draw up something official to sign. The summer’s still got a while to run; do you know when you want your two weeks, or do you want to contact us later?”

Loki took a deep breath and blew it out. By the time he’d finished, he looked a lot more human. “First I have to survive telling my parents I impregnated Barnes’ sister a number of years ago. I’ll let you know how long I must recover from this.”

“You haven’t--” Tony shook his head quickly. “Huh. Okay.”

“With my father, it is best to present a project to completion, before one involves him,” Loki said. “Should I have gone to him when the custody was still in flux, I should, at the very least, be forced to listen to a recital of everything I have done wrong on every occasion in which it crossed his mind. At least in this case, I shall only have to grant that audience _once_.”

“Well, it’s your dad,” Tony said, “you know how to deal with him best.”

Billie came out of the story-hour room among a group of kids. She stared around and then spotted them. Rather than going to the tables like she was supposed to, she stalked over to them and gave three grown men a horrific scowl. Her arms were stiff at her sides and her fists balled up. “How dare you! All of you, standing around, deciding my future?” She pulled her head up in a haughty angle. “I am not a prize to be won!”

Tony burst into laughter, ignoring Bucky’s increasingly unsubtle elbows and Loki’s surprised and affronted look. “Oh my god, buttercup!” he cackled. A librarian gave them a stern look and he clapped both hands over his mouth in an effort to stifle his hilarity.

“Was that just right, Uncle Tony?” Billie beamed, all brilliant smiles. “You can be Aladdin.” She wormed her way under Tony’s arm until she was sitting in his lap, arms around his neck. “And Uncle Bucky can be the sultan, and… _he_ can be Jafar, except he needs a beard, to be all _twisted_.”

Bucky and Loki exchanged a look, disturbingly identical. “I’m gonna go with having no clue what she’s talking about. You?”

“I confess to general ignorance in this matter, as well,” Loki responded. He stood up, lean and graceful. “Come along, princess. Let us go out of doors before your _Aladdin_ gets us forcibly removed from the library premises. And we will discuss what has been decided, if you would like?”

Billie nodded, hopped down. “C’n we get a slurpee?” She looked down at her clothes, then said, “huh. I’m wearing red today. Guess that means I like you best.” And she grabbed Loki’s hand, batting her eyelashes at him like she was flirting. “Tall, dark… and handsome…”

“Ohgod that’s terribly disturbing,” Tony said, shuddering. He followed them toward the doors. “Don’t worry, princess, I’m coming to rescue you.”

“Well, he’s _obviously_ not the Genie, Uncle Tony,” she said, grabbing his hand as well.

Bucky came up on Tony’s far side, resting his arm around Tony’s waist and hooking a thumb through his belt loop. They had to shift, just a little, to get through the door, the four of them walking together, but there was a noticeable reluctance on everyone’s part to let go.

 

[ ](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1yig-rlK2m-d5Cblpla0TFYErmdARbYzt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out our art from the _amazing_ [monobuu](http://monobuu.tumblr.com/)!!! (If you are on mobile, you may have to click on it to get it to show up. I do not know why.)


	23. Chapter 23

Aunt Jessie looked pretty in her dress. Billie didn’t think she’d ever seen Aunt Jessie in anything but her jeans, boots, and black leather jacket. She was busy talking to Uncle Tony about the horrible traffic around North Carolina because of an accident, but Billie didn’t much care. She was holding onto her Aunt’s wrist, trying to drag her up the stairs to show off her new bedroom.

Uncle Tony and Uncle Bucky had spent about a week (with Billie sleeping in the guest room across the hall) to redecorate the room just as Billie wanted it, and that was finally done.

Uncle Tony had built a whole bunk bed like a spaceship, complete with control panels. Uncle Steve had come in and painted several pretend-windows that looked over planets and starscapes. Her stuffed animals and toys were packed away neatly in their cryo-pods and her closet was now the airlock.

“Stark,” Aunt Jessie said, her arms crossed, eyebrow lifted. “Overboard much?”

“Anything worth doing is worth overdoing,” Uncle Tony said. “Besides, it was _fun_.”

“Look, look, _loooook_ , Aunt Jessie,” Billie insisted, dragged her over to show off the control panel under her bed where she could steer her space ship to Mars. The bay window had been totally redone until it was her escape pod.

She pulled out her Build-a-Bear in his scrubs, facemask around his neck. “And this is Dr. Beck. He comes with me, to Mars.”

“Mars, huh?” Aunt Jessie said. “What do you do on Mars? Are there Martians to play with?”

“Sometimes,” Billie said. She tucked Dr. Beck under her arm. “An’ sometimes, sometimes they’re bad, and they shoot people. It’s very bad to get a hole in your space suit.” She dragged Dr. Beck’s kit out from under the bed. “But it’s okay. Dr. Beck carries the best space stuff ever.”

“Yeah, a hole in the space suit sounds bad,” Aunt Jessie agreed, crouching down beside her. “What kind of space stuff does he have?”

Triumphant, Billie yanked the spool of silver tape out of the bag. “ _Duct tape!_ It’s like the force; light side, dark side. Holds the universe together.”

“That is _definitely_ Tony’s fault,” Uncle Bucky said. He was laughing, though. Uncle Tony made a face at him.

“Sonic Screwdriver,” Billie pulled it out of Dr. Beck’s bag. “Tri’corder. And… moon ice cream!”

“I think Uncle Tony is mixing his TV shows,” Aunt Jessie observed. “But that is some pretty cool stuff.”

“Her dad tried to talk her into having a princess room instead, with ice-castles and whatnot,” Uncle Bucky said. “But, no, she’s decided she’s going to be an astronaut.”

“Or a vet’rinarian,” Billie said. “Haven’t made up my mind. Both of ‘em take a lot of school, Uncle Tony said. Lots. Like years an’ _years_.” Billie wasn’t sure why she needed another another ten years of school, much less college and grad… gradju? Whatever. More school. She already knew all the math stuff.

“He may yet commission a princess room at his place,” Uncle Tony put in. “I’m trying to get him to approach his dad about setting off some of the hotel suites and re-doing them as themes, but he’s stalling.” Uncle Tony shrugged. “I think it’d be awesome. I’d totally pay extra for a hotel room that feels like it’s underwater, or on a cruise ship.”

“Grampa Odin would do it,” Billie said. “He’s like _Santa Claus_. I mean, this is his summer home, an’ all. But _just like him_ , Aunt Jessie.” Billie had been scared about meeting more family, but her Uncle Thor was fun. Gran Frigga was as different from Grandmama as anyone could be, baking cookies and playing dolls with her, and building sandcastles. So Billie had decided more family was okay.

Uncle Tony made a funny snorting noise. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “You done showing your Aunt Jessie your spaceship? Ready to go downstairs and see if your party guests have started to show up yet?”

Billie huffed. If Kendra was here, she’d just come up. She rolled her eyes at Uncle Tony, then very carefully put Dr. Beck back into the escape pod, in case he needed to get away, really fast. “Okay. C’n I have a cupcake early? It’s _my_ birthday.”

Uncle Bucky shook his head. “We’ve gone over this more than once now. Cupcakes after lunch. Otherwise you’ll just fill up on frosting, and I want to sleep eventually.”

Billie thought about demanding, but Uncle Bucky was pretty strict about dessert was after food. And Aunt Nat wasn’t here to take her side. Besides, she heard a car pulling into the lot, which meant _someone else_ was here.

One thing Mom had forgotten to tell her about Sandbridge was that she would see her friends during the summer. Everyone lived so close. She saw Kendra and Ororo an’ even _Jeffery_ , almost every day.

Kendra was already on the steps when Billie opened the door. She had a pretty orange princess dress on and a present in a bag.

“Billieeeee!” Kendra yelled, bouncing up and down on her toes. “Lookit lookit lookit my new dress!”

“Very pretty,” Billie said. She touched the ruffles, they were pretty, too. She glanced at the present, trying to be sly. “Is that for me?”

“No opening presents until everyone is here!” Uncle Bucky called down from the balcony.

Billie rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out, making Kendra laugh. “C’mon, there’s a place t’ put them, inside.” She grabbed Kendra’s hand and they ran into the Dockside. Aunt Nat was already in there.

She gave them a startled look when the door opened and stuffed the cupcake she was biting into her mouth to hide it. It didn’t work very well. She made shhhhhh faces and gestured, then tore another cupcake in half and gave half to each of them, chewing rapidly. “Go, go, _go out the front_ , girls, I won’t tell,” she said, stashing the cupcake wrapper in her pocket.

Aunt Nat was _the best_. Kendra dropped the present on the table and the two of them ran out the front door to the porch to eat their stolen cupcake.

Kendra licked the icing off the top of hers. “Who’s that lady with your dads?” she asked. “Is that your mom?”

Billie sighed. “No. My mom’s gone. She died,” Billie reminded Kendra. She climbed up onto the barstool and looked out at the ocean. “That’s Mom’s best friend, my Aunt Jessie. She’s a p’leeceman. She does ‘vestigating an’ sometimes she gets thrown out windows. My mom used to stitch up her cuts. Mom was a nurse.”

“Oh, yeah. I ‘member you told me about your mom.” Kendra licked some more frosting off her thumb. “She kinda looks like you, though. Her hair’s long an’ dark, too.”

“Mom says-- said. Mom said, when I’s born, Aunt Jessie was th’ first person who held me, cause she was there, an’ no one else.” The ocean was pretty today, all frothy waves, like bubble bath. Her Grampa Odin had told her a story about the ocean an’ how the first horses had come out of the waves. Grampa Odin knew a lot of stories, an’ his big voice was good for telling them.

“You have _lots_ of fam’ly now, tho,” Kendra said. “That’s kinda cool.”

“Yeah,” Billie said. “I have my dads. And then there’s my _dad_. An’ Aunt Nat and Uncle Steve, an’ Clint, who’s _not my uncle_ , he says not. He can be th’ black sheeps. And Grandmama, and Grampa Odin and Gran and Uncle Thor an’... yeah.” She put her arm around Kendra, who leaned into her. She’d finally figured out the touching rule. Friends who said it was okay were for touching. And family. She had a lot of family.

Billie could hear other guests arriving; her Uncle Thor’s booming laughter was a dead giveaway. She stole one last look at the ocean. “Let’s go inside an’ see ever’one.”

Sandbridge… Sandbrige wasn’t so bad after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap for this story! But don't despair! We've got a little snippet of a story that will post TOMORROW, and then we'll kick off the next story, _That Special Someone_ , on Monday! That's right -- three days of Sandbridge in a row!
> 
> Our schedule currently has four "complete" works:  
> \- Driftwood (a snippet, which will kick off our Jetsam and Flotsam collection of scenes and snippets)  
> \- That Special Someone (a novel)  
> \- Mother of Tides (a novel)  
> \- O Brother! Where Art Thou? (a short story)
> 
> PLUS we're almost done writing _My Three Dads_ (another novel).
> 
> Sandbridge isn't going anywhere, anytime soon. (Make sure you're subscribed to the series!)


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